


More than Meets the Eye

by FireflySummerwynd



Category: Poison (US Band)
Genre: Artificial Intelligence, F/M, Glam Metal, Multi, Other, Sex Dolls, hair metal
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-29
Updated: 2020-07-06
Packaged: 2021-03-03 18:54:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 21
Words: 60,806
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24980392
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FireflySummerwynd/pseuds/FireflySummerwynd
Summary: Artificial Intelligence can be both intriguing and downright terrifying–it depends on who ya ask, not to mention what it's being used for at any given Time. But one company comes up with a use for what many consider a threat that no one's ever thought of, much less tried before.Reagan Logan's always been more than a lilout there,as it were–she's been described as eccentric by so many, she doesn't even bother getting offended by that particular description. It's no surpriseta the couple folks who know her best when she decidesta invest part of a surprise inheritance on something most wouldn't want within 300 yards of them–sex dolls that're more human than just your average dolls.But these sex dolls aren't just robots that can be used for sexual pleasure on her part. No, these dolls're based on two of her favorite rock stars–Bobby Dall and Richie Kotzen. And not just in how they're designed tolooklike these men from around the Time the Poison albumNative Tonguewas released, but in their personalities, as well.
Relationships: Bobby Dall/Reagan Logan





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, folks– _this_ is what happens when I'm sleep-deprived due to a fuckin' never-Ending migraine and a memory from a Facebook post I saw within the last couple Years gets jogged. That being said, this story's gonna get more than a lil weird, if it goes the way I want it to, and I don't think _Mature_ is a strong enough rating for this one–it feels like it needsta be labeled _Explicit_ to me, which's why it's exclusive to this site only.  
> ~Firefly

“Delivery for a Miss Reagan Logan!”

Reagan couldn’t help the grin on her face as she whipped open her front door once she heard those words following the knock she’d been tempted to ignore. There was only one thing–well, technically two–that she was expecting to be delivered anytime soon, so there was no mistaking what it was. In fact, she was so certain that she was right–especially once she saw the easily six-foot-tall crates being unloaded from the delivery truck–that she didn’t hesitate to sign off on said delivery.

Whether it was part of their job descriptions or not, the men helped her get the crates into the house and pried open so their contents were revealed. Hidden within from the World were exactly what she’d ordered–a pair of masculine bodies with faces she knew well. At the moment, they were still and Lifeless, but she knew they’d become animated once these bad boys were charged.

Once the delivery men’d left her in Peace, she got the charging docks for her new toys sets up, then managed to haul said toys onto them. Designed to charge the way a lotta cell phones did these Days, all she’d to do was get the bottoms of their feet on the docks, and they’d form their own connections. The telltale, beeping tunes that were played as she did that alongside the way their brown and blue eyes lit up much like a cell phone’s screen did when it was plugged in let her know those connections were successfully made. It’d be a while before she could even think of turning her new toys on–their batteries were completely dead after all–but once she could, it’d be game-on in a few different ways.

“In the meantime, let’s see what at least one of these instruction manuals say,” the young woman muttered as she curled up on her couch.

She still couldn’t help her excited grin, even as she settled in with her glassesta read the fine print in the provided instruction manuals. All she really wanted _or_ needed to know was shit like how to put them in sleep mode, if they didn’t automatically do so themselves at certain points, and just how to take care of them in general. While they might look like a pair of flesh-and-blood men, she knew they weren’t gonna need to eat, but they might actually need to drink Water. Then again, maybe it wasn’t that, but they’d need to drink some kinda hydraulic fluid so they could actually move since they were supposed to be able to do even that on their own.

Glancing over at her new toys between reading, Reagan couldn’t wait till they were charged enough to actually be turned on. Not only were they designed to _look_ like a pair of her favorite rock stars–albeit when they were around the ages of twenty and thirty, respectively–they were supposed to be pre-programmed with their personalities, too. Considering she was such an agoraphobic home-body, she doubted she’d ever get to meet the men they were based on–and if she did, she prolly wouldn’t develop any kinda relationship with them. That meant these Life-size, anatomically-correct dolls were the next best thing for her, especially since they’d never age and would outlive those they were based on. If anything, she shouldn’t have to do more than have regular maintenance done on them and maybe replace their batteries every few Years.

If that was all she’d to do to essentially have Bobby Dall and Richie Kotzen living in her house with her, the young woman was more than content with these dolls–and she hadn’t even turned them on yet.


	2. One

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm well aware that the _Stadium Tour_ got postponed till next Year, but I'm using the original venues and dates, anywhore. I'm so sick unto Death of all this _Godzilla Flu_ shit everywhere I turn that I need at least a lil bit of normal in my Life–even though I abhor the word _normal_ –so we're gonna pretend it didn't happen in this particular story, folks.  
> ~Firefly

“Don’t wait up, if your batteries start going dead and y’all need to put yourselves into sleep mode. Concerts tend to End decently late, and since I’m going to the meet-and-greet afterward, I’ve no fuckin’ clue what Time I’ll get back, boys.”

Reagan looked at the Life-size, anatomically-correct sex dolls that were so much more who were sitting on the couch in her living room. Having arrived six months ago, they’d done far more than just give her a whole new way to unleash her inner Succubus, as it were. These dolls were designed to not only look like a pair of her favorite rock stars, but were pre-programmed with each man’s personality. As long as their batteries were charged, they could not only hold conversations of both the clean and dirty sort with her, but they acted like they were actually human due to the artificial Intelligence they possessed.

“I’m prolly gonna head off to my charging dock in the next couple hours,” the one she called Rich since he was based on former Poison multi-instrumentalist Richie Kotzen said.

“Me, too,” the one she generally referred to as Rob due to being based on Poison bassist Bobby Dall agreed. “TV’s just not keeping my attention tonight, and I don’t feel like jamming.”

“Same here,” his brunette compatriot chuckled.

“Whatever floats your boats, boys,” the young woman laughed. “Like I said, I dunno when I’ll be back, but it prolly won’t be till after Midnight.”

Nodding, Rob and Rich both turned their attention to whatever they’d been watching on TV before she came outta the first-story master suite. Both’d their own bedrooms upstairs, ’cuz there were Times they’d just wanna lay down like any other human to put themselves into sleep mode outta boredom, but not necessarily need their batteries charged. Granted, both their charging docks lived in those bedrooms now, rather than in her living room like they had when they’d first been delivered.

After locking her front door–even though she knew one of the dolls left in the house coulda done it–Reagan headed out to her truck. She’d managed to score not just VIP tickets, but backstage passesta the stop on the _Stadium Tour_ just up the road on the North side of Nashville, Tennessee. This particular tour was being headlined by Mötley Crüe, but one of their openers was none other than Poison, whom she’d have to say was her favorite band. Her dolls might be great to have–Gods only knew they’d more Stamina than any other man she’d ever met since they weren’t actually human–but nothing could top getting to meet the man one of them was based on.

On her drive to the Nissan Stadium, the young woman did her best to bite back her excitement, which she knew neither of her dolls–nor her best friends–coulda held against her. This was a _once-in-a-Lifetime_ kinda opportunity for her, which’d been granted by the same thing that allowed her to spend well over a hundred grand on those custom dolls. If she hadn’t suddenly come into a surprise inheritance she hadn’t known was waiting on her, not only would she still be living with her abusive mother, but she wouldn’t have been able to afford even one of the interchangeable penises for her dolls.

Upon arriving at the aforementioned stadium, Reagan found that the VIP ticket holders were being let in earlier than everyone else in general admin. Apparently, the bands’d all decided to do their meet-and-greets _before_ the show instead of afterward, which made her curious. She knew that these bands were all aging men who prolly needed Viagra to even get it up anymore, but she couldn’t help wondering why they’d made a sudden schedule Change. Maybe it was ’cuz Poison’s front man’d been a Type I diabetic all his Life, and adjusting to being on the road again was a bit hard for him. Then again, they were only eleven Days into the tour and he did solo tours all the Time, so maybe it _wasn’t_ that. After all, it coulda been one of the other guys or even Joan Jett not feeling like he or she could stay up late that’d required such a Change.

“Well, hello there, gorgeous.”

The young woman rolled her eyes at Bret Michaels’ obvious attempt at flirting with her when she walked up to his band’s table. “Save your Energy, Mr. Michaels–you’re more my mom’s speed than mine.”

Everybody within earshot–even the other bands–cracked up as his face turned pink.

“Damn, man–finally found one who’s immune to ya!” Poison’s lead guitarist, CC DeVille, crowed.

“Only ’cuz I’m already under another man’s spell, as it were,” she chuckled, handing them the vinyl copy of _Open Up_ she’d bought online so she wouldn’t have to ruin the original she’d stolen from her mother when she left her home State.

“This an original copy?” their drummer, Rikki Rockett, asked as it was passed to him.

“No, that one’s at home,” Reagan answered. “Damn thing’s upwards of three decades, and it still works.”

“Holy shit!” Even the man she was so Entranced by looked surprised. “You’re seriously talking original vinyl?”

“If by that, ya mean black vinyl record with the original Art that hit shelves in May of ’88, then yeah,” the young woman answered, grinning. “Stole it from my mother for all the shit she put me through growing up, along with a few other records she bought back in the Day.”

Even the boys from Mötley Crüe cracked up a couple tables over as they signed things for fans in front of them.

“Hey, that includes even four of _your_ albums–which also still work, by the way!” she laughed as she gestured to them.

“Not many even have record players anymore!” Nikki Sixx retorted as he looked up at her with a grin of his own.

“So, I wanted to test ’em out to see if her claims were true,” Reagan told him, taking her record back from Bobby once he was done with it. “Bite me, if ya can take your wife clobbering ya for it later.”

_“Ooh,_ a feisty one,” Poison’s drummer chuckled, elbowing the Silver Fox that sat to his right.

“Shut up, ya ass,” he laughed. “I outgrew that shit Years ago.”

“Maybe, maybe not,” the young woman teased him. “But just ’cuz ya apparently like ’em feisty doesn’t mean I’m actually interested.”

“Point taken, darlin’,” Bobby drawled. “Although, I gotta admit–it’d be nice, if ya _were.”_

All she responded with was a mischievous grin and a wink, which made his eyes Darken in a way that suggested he was seriously tempted to try wooing her. Problem with that was that it wouldn’t be long till he’d to be onstage, so they didn’t exactly have Time to be getting into any shenanigans at the moment. Course, that didn’t stop him from convincing her to hang out backstage so he’d actually get to see her again later.

Reagan was more than willing to hang out backstage, even if his attempts at wooing her later didn’t work out the way he obviously wanted them to. At least getting to hang out back here’d offer her a different vantage point of their set, and she wouldn’t be stuck in a crowd that was hot and no doubt to aggravate her arthritis. Granted, that reminded her that–should he get further than just flirting with her–she’d have to Enlighten him to that so he wouldn’t try finding out how bendy she was or wasn’t. Whether she was flexible or not, she didn’t exactly feel like dealing with what her joints’d put her through tomorrow, if he tried that.

It was after the band in question stormed the stage following Joan Jett’s set that the young woman overheard a call she knew she wasn’t meant to overhear. Judging by the litany of Curses that came outta his mouth, Poison’s manager’d just gotten a phone call from someone with some seriously bad news. From what she could make out from a distance, their hotel reservation’d gotten fucked-up somehow, and now the guys’d nowhere to crash since their buses were supposed to be getting some overnight maintenance before they headed out to their next tour stop. However, that sparked an idea that she knew might not actually get put to use–it’d depend on how desperate these guys were for real beds.

Making sure she was in the man’s line of sight so she wouldn’t wind up getting hit, she gently grabbed the manager’s arm once he’d Ended his call. The man who introduced himself as Bert Stein hadn’t realized she’d overheard his call till she questioned him about it involving a hotel mix-up. He sighed as he shoved his fingers through his sparse hair, the stress he was feeling as he confirmed her suspicion written all over his face since he was no doubt trying to figure out what they were gonna do.

“Depending on how much ya trust a perfect stranger, I’ve Space y’all can invade for however long ya need it,” Reagan told him with a shrug.

“Um, I’m not too sure about that, miss,” he said, now sounding uncertain and looking wary.

“Just ’cuz I make an offer doesn’t mean y’all have to accept it,” the young woman chuckled. “But my bunk room’s just as good as a hotel, maybe better.”

“Not too sure they’ll go for that since they sleep in bunks already,” Bert admitted.

“Well, I’ve a couple other rooms–they’d just have to be cleaned out of a few things first,” she said. “And only one has dual Queen beds, so somebody’d wind up having to share, if they didn’t pick a bunk in the bunk room.”

“We’ll see what they say,” the manager told her. “’Cuz whether I trustcha or not, _they_ might not.”

“Totally understandable,” Reagan chuckled. “None of y’all know me from Eve’s house Cat, so I’d expect no less.”

He seemed surprised by how understanding she was, but grateful all the same.

“Just lemme know what y’all decide since I’ve no plans of leaving just yet,” the young woman said as she pulled out her phone. “In the meantime, I’ma head off for a potty break before they get to the good stuff.”

“Sounds like as good a plan as any to me,” Bert agreed with a nod.

Returning the nod as she headed off to the nearest restroom, she unlocked her phone so she could at least attempt sending a text. Both her dolls’d said they were prolly gonna go get on their charging docks within a couple hours of her leaving, so it was possible that neither’d answer. After all, with their artificial Intelligence, they were more than capable of using a cell phone for pretty much anything she could. They just couldn’t when they were in sleep mode, ’cuz it was akin to her being in the midst of REM sleep–they’d never hear them ringing, so they wouldn’t know to respond till they woke themselves up.

After shooting off that quick text to Rob and Rich about moving their charging docks, should they wake before her Return, Reagan headed to the backstage area again. Poison was just Ending one of her favorites, _Ride the Wind,_ so they could grab their Water bottles for a quick sip before diving into the next song. That next song just happened to be another of her favorites, _Talk Dirty to Me,_ which brought a grin to her face.

By the End of their set, which was concluded with an encore of their cover of KISS’ _Rock and Roll all Nite,_ the young woman still hadn’t heard back from either of her dolls. She tried shooting them another text as the guys veritably tumbled off the stage like a litter of hyper puppies, but she’d a somewhat bad feeling. They were both prolly too drained to wake before Morn, which meant she wasn’t likely to hear back from them at all before she started heading home. If that turned out to be the case, she supposed she’d just have to claim they were mannequins bought as memorabilia for one of her favorite bands. After all, some folks did weirder shit when it came to collectibles, and she could always claim she was still working on getting others like them.

Naturally, the guys were upset when Bert corralled them to inform them of the hotel mix-up he’d gotten that call about in the middle of their set. They’d all been looking forward to getting to sleep in actual beds–and ones they _didn’t_ have to share with any of their band mates, at that. But a quick glance over to where their manager gestured when he told them about the surprising offer made Bobby make a snap decision, and he didn’t particularly care if his band agreed or not.

“If _she’s_ the one who made it, I’m game,” he said when he realized Bert was gesturing toward the young woman from earlier.

“Well, of course _you_ are,” Bret chuckled. “But you’re thinking with your dick like you’re twenty-five again, too.”

_“Annnnd?_ I can’t help that she’s beautiful and intriguingly Mysterious,” the bassist retorted.

“Oh, sure–just talk about me like I’m _not_ within earshot,” Reagan laughed, locking her phone and putting it back in her pocket after her latest attempt.

“See, this is why ya don’t talk about somebody like they’re not listening,” Rikki chuckled.

“Whether I was or not, like I told your manager, it’s completely up to y’all,” the young woman said. “Y’all dunno me from Eve’s house Cat, so I wouldn’t expect anything short of at least a lil wariness.”

“Damn–beautiful, Mysterious, _and_ understanding,” CC crowed. “Maybe we oughta take her up on the offer, ’cuz something tells me a woman with that last trait isn’t gonna kill us in our sleep.”

“Shit, I’m more worried about _y’all_ trying to break into my bedroom and kill _me!”_ she admitted with a laugh of her own. “I mean, c’mon–one fun-sized, fairly weak woman versus at least four decently strong guys, one of whom’s a black belt in _Jiu Jitsu?_ I wouldn’t stand a fuckin’ chance against even one of y’all.”

“And yet, you’re offering to let us spend the Night at your house,” the vocalist mused.

“Don’t have it in me to do otherwise when I was once homeless and begging for a placeta stay, but nobody’d help me out.” Reagan’s shrug wasn’t quite as nonchalant as she’d been going for, and they could easily see that.

After sharing a quick look with each other, the quartet and their manager decided to take her up on her offer. They doubted they’d be able to find accommodations that wouldn’t leave them with at least bed bugs on such short notice, if they looked elsewhere. If she was really more afraid of them hurting her than the other way around, they didn’t see any reason _not_ to take her up on her Generosity while it was being offered.

Leading them outside once they’d grabbed what lil they’d brought into the stadium with them, the young woman said that she’d to head out to the VIP lot to grab her car. Since he was wanting to at least flirt with her, Bobby said he’d go with her on the grounds that he could text one of the others and let them know exactly where she was parked. His band and manager seemed a lil dubious about letting him do that, but he didn’t give them Time to argue before he headed off behind her. Outta all of them, he was prolly one of the wildest–he’d a penchant for disappearing between shows back in the Day, after all.

Once he’d found out exactly where she’d parked, the bassist sent his manager a quick text to let him know where they could be found. Reagan said it was up to him whether he rode with her or the rest of his band, considering they were all going to the same place. He didn’t have to, if he didn’t wanna, considering they didn’t know each other, but she was leaving such a decision up to him. By the Time his band’s lil tour car pulled into the spot next to hers, he’d made his decision–and it wasn’t a hard one to make by any means.

Bobby leaned down to tell his manager that he was riding with their young hostess once he’d rolled the driver’s window down and could hear him. Lowering his voice so she wouldn’t hear as she climbed into her truck, he said he didn’t know what it was about her, but something made him actually wanna get to know her. He felt his best chance of doing that was getting some one-on-one Time with her, and this might just be his only opportunity to do so. There were no guarantees that he’d be able to get her to trade numbers with him, after all, so they might not be able to stay in touch after tonight. Without giving any of them Time to argue that point either, he opened her passenger’s door and hauled himself in, ready to see where they’d be staying tonight.


	3. Two

Pulling up in the young woman’s driveway, Bobby–or rather Rob, as he preferred to be addressed outside his band–was a bit surprised. The house was cozy and quaint-looking, but it seemed too big for just a single woman living by herself, if he were honest. Maybe she’d a roommate or something, which was why she didn’t quite have enough Space for all of them to have their own rooms tonight.

Laughing as she slid down outta her truck, Reagan–which was what she’d finally told him her name was–said that one of the bedrooms was actually being used as a Music room. Other than that, she technically _did_ have enough for each of them to have their own rooms, provided he wound up bunking with her. Aside from that, though, at least two of them were gonna wind up sharing, whether they took the bunk room or the room with dual Queen beds that she’d mentioned. He couldn’t help his eyes Lighting up when she said something about him bunking with her, thinking this was his chanceta go further than just flirting with her.

In the foyer, he was a bit surprised to see that it was more or less L-shaped, one half of it seeming to run straight ahead of them till in Ended in what he suspected was her Music room. The other side cut a hard left and led to what appeared to be the living room, but he wasn’t entirely sure since he thought he saw a couch–or maybe it was just an arm chair. Either way, all he and the guys could do was wait for her to close and lock her front door before she headed down the hall that went straight ahead to the stairs.

“I’m taking the elevator up, boys,” the young woman told them as she opened the door just to the left of the stairs. “My knees’re already screaming bloody murder from wearing those boots all Night.”

“Up–or even down–to where, exactly?” Bert asked.

“Third floor,” she answered. “Head up these stairs and cut a hard left–you’ll see the End of the hand rail for the next set of stairs that’ll keep going up from there.”

“Gotcha.” The drummer nodded as he headed off, effectively leading the way.

By the Time they’d all tromped up the stairs, she’d stepped off the elevator and closed the door behind her.

“There’s a washer and dryer right here for anyone who needsta do laundry,” Reagan said, opening the double doors behind her. “Just don’t flood my house, or I might bean y’all with something.”

“I think we’re all old enough to know how to do laundry without that happening,” CC laughed.

“Eh, that washer can be a lil temperamental sometimes,” the young woman chuckled. “Hence why I tend to use the laundry room _downstairs_ more than anything.” She wasn’t about to say that this set was also up here for her dollsta do _their_ laundry with when they felt the need.

“Well, lead the way,” the vocalist told her. “’Cuz I think after we manage to find food, we’re gonna be crashing soon.”

“Yeah, been a long Day for us,” Rikki agreed, unable to help a yawn.

Nodding as she led them through the mini living room, she took them to a bedroom that was on their right, if they remained facing the same Direction as when they arrived at the top of the stairs. Complete with its own bathroom, it could prolly be dubbed more of a sub-master suite than anything, but at least it was roomy enough for a Queen-size bed, just like she’d promised. Its vaulted ceiling ensured that no matter which of them claimed it, nobody’d be smacking their heads on the ceiling fan, whether it was on or off.

Bret decided he was claiming this first room, as evidenced by him setting his bag down on the bed before locking himself in the bathroom. No doubt all the Water they’d been guzzling throughout the show was ready to be dumped, which seemed to amuse Reagan as she turned to lead the others out. Course, that made her think that the rest of the guys’d to go, too, and just weren’t complaining as she gave them the tour.

In the mini living room, she cut a hard right down a short hallway that she said was technically a foyer, according the house’s floor plans. As far as she was concerned, it was simply a hallway since it wasn’t like it was big or long enough to be construed as a foyer, in her opinion. Regardless of its terminology, though, she pointed into the door on their left, which turned out to lead to the aforementioned bunk room. Judging by what they saw when they peeked in, it was a literal bunk room–it appeared that there was at least one set of built-in bunk beds, which meant there were prolly two sets. To them, it seemed more like something suited to a weekend stay at Grama’s house for some grandkids, but it could work as a last resort.

Walking into the bedroom straight ahead of them–which sported its own en suite bathroom, too–they were all a bit startled when the young woman turned the Lights on. Not ’cuz it was the room that sported dual Queen beds, but rather ’cuz there was what appeared to be a young man standing in front of the window across from those beds. He appeared absolutely Lifeless as he stood stock-still, his Sea-blue eyes open so that it appeared he was just staring into Space. The thing that _really_ startled them, though, was that they’d have sworn they were looking at their former multi-instrumentalist, Richie Kotzen.

“It’s just a dummy, or mannequin–whichever y’all prefer,” Reagan laughed. Walking over to it, she grabbed its hand and lifted its arm, which promptly dropped back down like a Lead weight.

“That thing’s creepy,” CC said with a shiver. “Shit, I’m almost tempted to take one of the bunks instead of sleeping in here with that thing.”

“He can be moved, if you’re _that_ freaked-out by him,” she told him. “It’s just a pain in the ass since I’m so short, so I usually leave him where he’s at.”

“Would having its eyes closed help ya, C?” Rikki chuckled. “’Cuz I’ll help her move it, if I gotta, but if having its eyes closed’ll work, too…”

“Yeah, maybe,” the shortest blonde admitted, although he sounded a bit reluctant.

Reaching up, she kept her touch gentle as she pulled the mannequin’s eyelids closed, none of the living men with her realizing that it was actually so much more than what she’d said it was. And she’d kept her touch gentle just in case he was actually awake, but pretending to be in sleep mode–which he and his partner-in-crime’d done before–since he obviously wouldn’t have recognized any of their voices. She didn’t wanna hurt him, even though he technically wasn’t human, and make him startle the others by seeming to suddenly come to Life so he could bat her hand away or something.

With Rikki and CC settled in this bedroom, Reagan gestured for the bassist and his manager to follow her again while they were changing for bed. Leading them back down to the landing between staircases, she showed them to the final bedroom that was up for grabs tonight. It sported its own Queen-size bed and en suite bathroom like the first did, but Bobby wasn’t too worried about that as he gestured to his manager.

“I’ll sleep on her couch, man,” he chuckled when he gave him a curious look. “Ya know how I feel about sharing a bed with anyone I’m not dating.”

“Ya sure about that, Bobby?” Bert asked. “I can always take the couch, myself and let _you_ have this room.”

“Yeah, I’m sure,” the bassist answered with a nod. He wasn’t about to tell him that he Intended to bunk with their young hostess, and that he’d the feeling _her_ room was closer to the living room than not.

“Then c’mon, and I’ll show ya where the guest bath is,” said young woman told him. _“Buona Notte,_ Bert.”

“Uh, yeah–whatever _that’s_ supposed to mean,” he chuckled.

“It means _Good Night_ in Italian,” Reagan laughed, gently closing the door behind her.

“I hope ya weren’t just pulling my leg about letting me bunk with you,” Bobby all but purred as he followed her back down to the main foyer.

“If you’re _that_ Intent on it,” she responded with a purr of her own. “Nor was I kidding about showing ya where the guest bath’s at since it’s on the way to the master suite.”

_“Mmm.”_ The bassist simply hummed as he followed her, pleasantly surprised to see he’d been right about the other side of the foyer leading to the main living room.

But before they actually stepped into said living room, his young hostess cut down a hall that branched off to their left. The only door on the left side of that short hallway opened into what was actually a powder room, but good enough for somebody that just needed to relieve themselves. At the far End of said hall was the downstairs laundry room, which was no doubt the one she said she used more often than not.

However, the door immediately to the right of the one that led into said laundry room opened into another hall, and he could already see part of a bed and a nightstand, even from here. Bobby’d the feeling that this was the master suite, and where he’d be bunking for tonight since he’d decided against sleeping upstairs. The door on his left here led into the master bathroom, and he was glad to find out there was a shower, not just the tub he saw under the window on the far side. He wouldn’t deny that he wasn’t much for taking a bath–he’d rather go soak in a hot tub, if he needed something to pound on his muscles that bad.

The door on his right led into her closet, which Reagan was quick to warn him to stay outta as she passed it on her way deeper into the master suite. He couldn’t help how his brow furrowed as he peeked in, almost swearing he could make out the silhouette of a man standing there in the Darkness. Maybe it was just his mind playing tricks on him since it was getting late, and he was starting to get tired, though. Or then again, maybe this house was actually haunted, and she was just trying not to scare him by admitting it aloud.

“Now, where’d we leave off backstage, _hmm?”_ the bassist asked. His voice held a bit of a growl to it as he gently pushed her back against the wall between the closet door and the archway that opened into a lil sitting area, careful not to knock down the framed picture hanging next to her.

_“Mmm,_ I can’t quite remember,” she purred, pulling him tighter against her. “Maybe ya need to remind me.”

“That so, huh?” Bobby chuckled, unable to help his innate urge to grind against her gently. “I seem to recall being pretty damn closeta grabbing ya for a kiss.”

“Oh, really?” the young woman laughed. “And what if I don’t want a kiss?”

“Then what _do_ ya want?” he growled, completely missing the soft rustle from the closet as he zeroed in on her with laser focus.

“Oh, big boy, I want _soooo_ much more than just a kiss,” Reagan told him, her grin somehow widening. “Maybe something more along the lines of a _Good Love_ kinda Night.”

_“Ohhhh,_ ho.” The bassist couldn’t help a laugh of his own. “So, ya want me to roll ya over and rock ya till the Mornin’ Light, huh?”

“Ya won’t hear _me_ complaining, if ya do,” she purred, pushing him backward just enough to send him in the Direction of her bed.

Bobby didn’t bother trying to fight her, even when the backs of his knees hitting the foot of the mattress sent him straight down to his ass. Even as he flopped backward so that he was sprawled out on his back, his legs spread and hanging over the edge of the bed from the knee down, he managed to jerk her down with him. The young woman let out a laugh that was mixed with a squeal as that pulled her into his lap so she was straddling him, which offered her the perfect opportunity to grind on him. He couldn’t help a groan as that made him twitch against her in anticipation, his focus on her still so strong that he once again missed the soft rustle from the closet as he pulled her flush against him.

Reagan couldn’t help a soft moan as he quickly captured her lips with his own, his right hand settling at the nape of her neck as if trying to keep her from pulling back. His other hand settled at the small of her back to start with, but was quick to drift down lower so he could give her ass a gentle squeeze. Granted, that gentle squeeze garnered him another moan as she ground down against him even harder, which earned her another groan from him.

That groan was followed by yet another growl as the bassist started pulling the hem of her shirt up toward her head, his eyes drinking in the Beauty that was revealed as he did. He’d never claimed to have any particular favorite part of a woman’s body, but the bounty just barely held at bay by this one’s bra might just have him Changing his tune by the End of the Night. Unlike those of most of the women he’d been exposed to, her breasts were as real as they got, but far bigger than most achieved Naturally without conceiving at some point in their Life. Course, that wasn’t to say that hers were disproportionately big or anything–they were just the right size for her slightly overweight frame, but no so big they looked outta place.

Kissing, licking, and nipping a trail as he went Southward, Bobby went down as low as the Valley between her breasts since he couldn’t go much lower in this position without sliding off the End of the bed. But lavishing his attention on those gorgeous breasts didn’t seem to please her, judging by the way she attempted to squirm outta reach of his mouth. Cocking a brow up at her, he wondered why she’d be trying to get away from something just about every woman he’d ever slept with usually loved. He certainly wasn’t expecting the answer he got to his Silent question, which took a few momentsta register in his Lust-fogged brain.

“Too sensitive, and does nothing for me,” Reagan panted. “I’ll have more fun falling asleep and having a raunchy Dream, if ya keep doing that.”

“Well, I’ll be damned,” he chuckled, using his superior strength–not to mention his own weight–to essentially throw her to the side and roll atop her. “Never met a woman who _didn’t_ like having her tits messed with before.”

“First Time for everything, right?” the young woman laughed, her fingers starting to work at the buttons of his overshirt.

“I suppose so, yeah,” Bobby agreed, managing to pull her further up the bed so he could actually brace his knees properly. “Course, it’s not necessarily a bad thing.”

“Gods, I hope not,” she mewled. “The World would get pretty boring, if everybody was the same.”

“Amen to that, darlin’,” the bassist said, straightening just long enough to fling his overshirt and T-shirt hell-only-knew where in her room.

Turning his attention back to finding her hot spots, he couldn’t help grinding down against her still since it felt too good to his starved libido. Besides, he knew damn good and well that–without his Viagra–it usually took him a while to truly get it up, never mind _keep_ it up, now that he was so much older. It wasn’t like he was twenty-five and embarrassing himself with a boner just from relaxing on the couch, then standing up too quick or something equally stupid anymore.

Bobby couldn’t help a sigh of relief as he felt her practically attacking his fly a few minutes later, even though his attention was thoroughly focused on finding other hot spots. He’d always been particularly well-endowed–even as a kid–which was why even loose jeans tended to murder his crotch once he started hardening. That was definitely part of the reason why he’d stopped wearing leather between _Open Up_ and _Flesh and Blood_ –he simply couldn’t stand feeling like his cock was being strangled when he’d pop a boner in something like that. Not to mention it didn’t exactly feel pleasant on his balls, which everyone already knew were more sensitive to the shaft that trumpeted its desire above them.

More than happy to kick the offending denim _and_ his boxers off once Reagan’d gotten them down past his knees, the bassist pushed himself upright just enough to get to _her_ fly. Her abdominal muscles twitched and jumped in anticipation at the slightest brush of his fingers, which made him grin down at her. Few women ever seemed to be quite as sensitive as she was without their reactions going a lil overboard, in his personal opinion. But she seemed to have the perfect Balance–sensitive enough to drive her absolutely nuts in all the best ways, but reactive enough to let him know what she liked without being melodramatic about it.

The bassist turned his attention to working his way down her torso, Intent on finding even more hot spots as he Traveled further South. She gasped and arched up against his face just from him stabbing his tongue into her navel, which told him all he needed to know. With that particular indentation being so sensitive, she was gonna love him plying his tongue in other ways once he moved lower still.

_“Ohhhh,_ Rob!” she moaned as he gave her clit an experimental kitten lick moments later.

“You rang, Mistress?”

Startled by hearing his own voice behind him, Bobby jerked his head up and got the shock of a Lifetime when he whirled around to look behind him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For anyone who wants the visual, here's a link to the house Reagan's supposed to live in. Yes, it's the same one I used in my recent story, _Strike Up the Band,_ so nobody's hallucinating on that one. LOL! I just happen to really like this house and its layout, even though I'm Intent on Changing the pool like I did in that aforementioned story.  
> ~Firefly
> 
> Link to Reagan's House–https://www.zillow.com/homedetails/6-Whistling-Swan-Rd-Hilton-Head-Island-SC-29928/68792735_zpid/?


	4. Three

“What the–Jesus fuckin’ Christ!”

Bobby actually fell off the other side of the bed as he scrambled away from the thing he saw standing at the End of the hall that led back to the closet and master bathroom. Groaning as he landed on his elbow funny, he kept his eyes locked on whatever the hell’d suddenly appeared and apparently just spoken. He musta gone completely insane the last few Years or something, ’cuz he’d swear he was looking at a clone of himself from when he was thirty or so.

Something else he noticed was that Reagan didn’t seem the slightest bit shy about being completely nude, her legs spread wide, despite this–thing now being in the room. In fact, she didn’t even seem to be surprised by its appearance, but rather a bit miffed at having been interrupted. That surprised him even more than he already was as he managed to sit up, his boner now a thing of the Past as he rubbed his elbow.

“Not you,” the young woman chuckled, her gaze locked on the clone of his younger Self. “Jeez, I thoughtcha were asleep.”

“I was–till I heard voices,” it retorted.

He was surprised by how its mouth even moved like any other person’s as it talked, not to mention how fluid and Graceful its movements seemed as it crossed its arms.

“Go on back to your dock, then,” she chuckled. _“Maybe_ I can still salvage this Night, if ya quit freakin’ him out.”

“The hell _is_ that thing?” Bobby finally managed to ask, his heart still racing.

“I’m not exactly a thing, _per sé,”_ it griped, shooting a glare at him. “And I’ve a name–which happensta be Rob.”

The bassist was even more freaked-out now as he looked back and forth between his clone and the young woman now sitting up on the bed.

“Long and short of it, he’s a sex doll,” Reagan explained with a grin. “But he’s not like any other sex doll _you’ve_ ever seen.”

“No shit,” he said, managing to haul himself back up onto the bed. “I mean, the damn thing _looks_ like I did almost thirty Years ago!”

Laughing again, the young woman explained that she’d done that Intentionally when she’d placed her order, ’cuz she doubted she’d ever get to meet and say five wordsta him. If that was the case and having a Life-size doll of him was the next best thing, she’d take it versus live a Life of misery by pining for something she couldn’t have. Still, the Thought of there being a clone of him–even if it _was_ more or less an animatronic doll–was more than a lil freaky to him.

The younger-looking, sex doll version of himself simply shrugged as he said that he’d just bust out his own erection and do the deed, if he was gonna back out now. He’d been bought for a purpose–although it wasn’t strictly sex–and he was gonna make sure that purpose was fulfilled, if need be. As far as he was concerned, if that meant fuckin’ the young woman with an audience–well, he wasn’t exactly human, so it wouldn’t bother him.

Bobby’s eyes widened as he looked back to the young woman sitting beside him, who grinned mischievously. She made it plainly obvious that while it’d be a lil weird for her to have him basically watching himself fuck her, she’d eventually get her rocks off. After all, this doll’d more Stamina than any man she’d ever met in her Life–as long as his battery was fully charged like she suspected it was, he could quite literally go all Night without needing a break. It’d be _her_ that needed a break before he wound up accidentally hurting her, if only ’cuz she couldn’t go quite like that and he wasn’t built the same way as a human male.

“I’m not sure I wanna know whatcha mean by that,” the bassist admitted.

“Well, I’m pretty sure _your_ cock’s not interchangeable,” Reagan snickered. “His _is.”_

He couldn’t help how his eyes widened, the doll smirking at him from across the room.

“She’s not wrong about that,” it told him, that smirk never leaving its face. “Once I get it up–well, it’s not going back down till I change cocks again.”

Bobby couldn’t help his jaw dropping as he turned his gaze back to her.

“Up to you, hon,” the young woman snickered, clearly biting back laughter. “Hell, he can even help _you_ get it up again, if that’s whatcha choose.”

_“What!?”_ he practically barked, rearing back as if she’d slapped him. “Uh, uh–no way’s that thing touching me!”

“Ugh, again with being called a thing.” It rolled its Chocolate eyes as it shifted to its other foot. “Any idea where Rich’s at? I’d rather hang out with him than keep being insulted like this.”

“I wouldn’t suggest trying to wake him up,” Reagan answered. “A couple of his band mates’re bunking in his room, and one’s already been freaked out by him enough.”

The bassist looked surprised as she jerked a thumb in his Direction with that last sentence.

“Damn it,” the sex doll grumbled. “There’s no way I’m putting myself back into sleep mode since I got your text and moved my charging dock outta _my_ room and into your closet–ya make too much noise once ya get started.”

“Then go outside, ya nut,” she laughed. “As long as ya haven’t torn your silicone open, it’s not like even being rained on is gonna hurtcha.”

Rolling its eyes again, it flipped her off, but that smirk was starting to Return to its face.

Bobby couldn’t help biting his lip as he watched and listened to the interaction between these two, which woulda suggested this thing was an actual person, if he hadn’t already been told the Truth. With the way it looked, talked, and acted just like him, one’d think it really _was_ him at first glance, if they didn’t know he was in his late-fifties and had gray hair now. It was definitely more than a lil freaky, but as he watched that short interaction, this thing actually started to grow on him a bit.

Looking at Reagan–who was still bantering with her doll slightly–part of him couldn’t help wondering what it’d be like to see it in action. Not only that, but he knew damn good and well he was gonna need help–prolly more than she could give–with getting it back up. Getting old certainly sucked in some ways, ’cuz one drawback was that it was harder for him to achieve an erection once he lost one, no matter the reason.

Clearing his throat got both their attention, even the doll cocking a brow at him curiously as it turned its head to look at him. Part of him couldn’t believe he was even about to suggest such a thing, which was why he was incredibly nervous as he took a deep breath. But he still felt like this was prolly the only way he was gonna get any action tonight, and he was almost desperate for just that. He couldn’t remember the last Time he’d gotten laid, rather than having to settle for his right hand, and if this doll could help him get it up again–well, maybe he needed to give it a shot and see what happened.

“This is gonna be fuckin’ weird for me, but–” Bobby started, clearly sounding nervous.

“Hey, ya don’t have to do anything you’re uncomfortable with,” the doll cut him off before the young woman could say anything. “Just ’cuz I was designed and built for sex and companionship doesn’t mean it hasta be utilized by certain parties.”

“Yeah, well–now that you’ve scared the hell outta me, there’s not gonna be much of a _party,_ if I don’t get some kinda help,” the bassist grumbled. “And unfortunately, my normal _help_ got left on my bus.”

“Ya wouldn’t be taking that shit, even if Rob _didn’t_ exist,” Reagan growled. “’Cuz if you’re talking about what I _think_ ya are–yeah, no. I prefer my guys able to go ’cuz it’s Natural, not ’cuz it’s forced by some medication that might cause ’em to give ’emselves a heart attack.”

He couldn’t help how his eyes widened at her Vehemence, which made _Rob_ snicker.

“If it takes the help of a sex doll for ya to get it up again, I’d rather hide your Viagra or whatever you’re on and go that route, if that’s whatcha want,” the young woman told him.

“Well, before it comes within three feet of me, how the fuck does it even work?” Bobby asked.

“Keep calling me an _it_ or a _thing,_ and I’ma rip your cock off so it becomes interchangeable,” the doll growled. “’Cuz I’m not kidding when I say that’s getting old.”

“Rob’s artificial Intelligence,” she chuckled. “He’s almost as human as we are, save for his body being made outta Steel and silicone.”

His jaw dropped again as he processed those words, but he was about to be even more surprised.

“He only eats for fun since there’s not much of a need for it, nutritionally-speaking, but he kinda _hasta_ stay hydrated for certain things,” Reagan said with a grin.

“Like being able to cum without it hurting like hell,” he dead-panned.

“Wait, what?” Bobby asked, feeling like he’d just been cracked over the head with something.

The young woman couldn’t help flopping over sideways and cackling into her pillow as the doll before them rolled its eyes again. Pinning its attention back on the flesh-and-blood male sitting beside her, Rob made it quite clear that the only thing he _couldn’t_ do sexually was actually father a child. Well, technically he _could,_ but not without having the DNA of a real person fed into him, which’d allow his artificial Intelligenceta essentially copy it the same way human bodies did in cell division.

Considering he was supposed to be based on this man, right down to the length of his eyelashes, he made it quite clear he wouldn’t wanna be pumped full of anyone’s DNA besides his. It’d just feel too weird physically fathering someone else’s child when he was based on this man’s younger Self, even if it allowed him to do the good deed of helping out an infertile couple who desperately wanted a child.

Reagan couldn’t help another grin as she sat up again, telling the bassist that that was part of the doll’s programming. He was supposed to feel certain human Emotions, even if he didn’t feel them quite as strongly as an actual human would. That meant that him saying he’d feel too weird about letting the DNA of anyone besides the man he was based on be shot into him so he could essentially be a copy machine was perfectly normal. Him saying that kinda shit meant he was functioning the way he was supposed to, rather than there being some kinda problem that’d get him turned off and sent back to his manufacturer for some kinda major repair or reprogramming that she couldn’t do, herself.

Bobby momentarily lowered his face into his hand, the elbow of that arm supported by the raised knee of the corresponding leg. There was a part of him that couldn’t believe he was about to allow himself to be caught up in such a thing, but then again, no one could ever say he hadn’t been at least a bit of an experimentalist in his Youth. However, there was one question he _really_ wanted answered before he dared let this thing within arm’s reach of him, let alone to actually touch him in any way. It was one of those things that’d make him feel too weird in his own right, if he didn’t ask before they went any further.

“All right, knowing what I know now,” the bassist said. “I gotta ask–what the hell’s this doll’s sexuality supposed to be?”

“Well, I’m based on _you,_ so whatever yours is,” Rob dead-panned. “Ya like girls? Great. Like guys instead? Eh, whatever. Like ’em both ’cuz ya can’t decide? That’s fine, too.”

“Seriously, considering his gender’s basically assigned by a factory based on what kinda order gets put in,” the young woman chuckled.

“Well, I can safely say I’m straight,” Bobby told them. “Never really been interested in my own cock like that, so why would another man’s be interesting?”

“Good answer,” the doll snickered, finally moving to brace a knee on the foot of the bed. “’Cuz if I’m honest, I’d much rather be turning _her_ into a moaning, writhing mess, not the guy I’m based on.”

He started to make a smart retort, only to be surprised by his physical strength when he barely touched him, but still shoved him flat on his back. Rob’s smirk turned somewhat flirty as he moved to crawl up the bed, which he could only assume was just part of that aforementioned programming. But even as the doll settled so he was more or less pinning him down, he was still surprised by how realistic his silicone flesh felt as he started nuzzling and caressing him.

Reagan was content to sit back and merely let her doll do what he’d been designed and bought to do, even if he was doing it to someone other than her. She knew that he was capable of doing things no ordinary human could do–not even a Witch like her who sometimes employed _Sex magick_. After all, he’d ways of Creating static electricity to Create a somewhat literal spark that only added to a recipient’s pleasure that she didn’t.

It took a couple more minutes than what she’d been anticipating, but Bobby finally started to relax and really get into the sensations as if it were her teasing him again. To be quite honest, it wasn’t long before he couldn’t seem to help trying to grind on the still denim-clad thigh of the doll. She knew that was a good sign, though, ’cuz it meant he was getting back into the mood–not to mention that grinding’d help stimulate him into full arousal. But she also wasn’t surprised when said doll started to get curious, considering his artificial Intelligence made him that way with anything new introduced into his robotic Life.

“What the–” the bassist gasped, suddenly feeling one of those silicone hands wrap around his half-hard shaft.

“Different,” Rob muttered, giving him a gentle, but experimental squeeze.

“I toldja, human men don’t have interchangeable cocks like you do,” she laughed, the man beside her groaning as he squeezed him again. “They get hard differently since they work with blood flow, not detachable pieces.”

_“Mmmm,”_ he hummed as he nodded, his hand moving to give him an experimental stroke.

“Fuckin’-A,” Bobby panted, unable to help his hips bucking up into that gentle touch.

“Feels soft,” the doll mused as he stroked him again.

_“Soft_ is one word I’d rather _not_ have used in referenceta my cock,” he managed to chuckle. “Especially when I’m in the mood to get laid.”

“Same thing as having sex, or making Love,” Reagan explained with a chuckle of her own as he glanced up at her.

“I can’t believe we’re explaining this shit to a _fuckin’ doll,_ of all things, like we’re talking to a child,” the bassist laughed. His tone sounded a bit incredulous, but she wasn’t exactly surprised by that.

“Hey, don’t blame me for being made straight,” said doll told him. “Blame yourself since I’m based on _you.”_

“Yeah, yeah, yeah–hey!” Bobby damn near Mule-kicked him off the bed when he felt something he _definitely_ wasn’t accustomed to. “Hands off my ass, cracker jack!”

“Relax,” the young woman laughed, gently pushing down on his chest when he made to bolt upright. “He’s _supposed_ to experiment and figure out whatcha like, kinda like any other lover.”

“Yeah, well–my ass definitely _isn’t_ anything I want toyed with, damn it,” he grumbled.

“Duly noted,” Rob mumbled, then surprised him once again by leaning down so he was crouched over him.

The bassist’s eyes widened as he realized just how realistic even the doll’s teeth felt when he wrapped his lips around his tip. Feeling the same kinda warmth and moisture as he’d feel outta any other mouth during a blow-job was just as trippy for him, but he was quickly distracted from his surprise. It wasn’t long before he’d to make the doll stop before he wound up cumming too soon, which garnered him a curiously confused look.

Due to his fairly heavy panting, Reagan was the one to explain that–in being an older man–it took him longer to reload after he shot, so to speak. In fact, some older men could go only a single round in a Night, ’cuz even if their _mind_ wanted more than that, their _body_ just didn’t wanna cooperate with them. She didn’t consider it anything to be ashamed of–that was just how the human body was designed, after all–and she made that pretty clear. Granted, that still didn’t quite save Bobby from a lil bit of embarrassment, but then again, who was he kidding right now? He was letting a fuckin’ sex doll get him riled up again, and would very likely be letting said doll join in on their fun at the rate this was going.


	5. Four

Upstairs in his bedroom, Rich was forced to stand stock-still as he’d been ever since stepping onto his charging dock and making the connection he’d needed in order to charge his battery. It happened every Time he came outta sleep mode, his system always needing a few minutesta warm up and come back online. One could somewhat compare it to a computer being brought outta hibernation, or even being booted up for the first Time ever–even after having been shut down for a while.

The first thing his artificial Intelligence registered was the soft Sounds of not one, but two humans breathing somewhere in the room. If he’d to guess since he hadn’t opened his eyes yet, he’d swear whoever he heard breathing were in the beds he stood across from the feet of. Part of him was a bit perturbed at the Thought of someone else sleeping in his bed–the one closer to the windowsta his left–but he knew better than to complain. No doubt his owner, Reagan, had allowed whoever the person wasta take his bed for the Night since he obviously wouldn’t have needed it. It was also prolly her who’d let the second person take the bed closer to the bedroom door, but he couldn’t Begin to fathom a reason why.

Cracking open his eyes once he finally felt warmed up enough, the younger-looking sex doll was glad that he could keep his eyes from glowing at Will. They almost always lit up when he first stepped onto his charging dock, which signified a strong connection since he’d turned off the volume on said dock. He found the beeping that signified the same thing irritating, as did his animatronic compatriot, or he’d have left it turned up.

Rich was careful not to make the slightest Sound as he finally stepped down off that dock, dressed in just the jeans ripped at the knees and denim button-down that he’d left unbuttoned the Night previous. He didn’t wanna wake the humans sleeping in his room, if only ’cuz he wasn’t quite awake enough to be trying to explain anything to them. Doubtless his owner’d passed him off as just a dummy or a mannequin again, which was her norm for when he and Rob were standing or sitting stock-still, pretending to be in sleep mode, even when they weren’t.

_Guess I’m heading to the powder room,_ he thought as he got to the second-floor landing and realized that even _that_ bedroom door was closed for once. _I wonder who she invited over so that none of the other bed- and bathrooms’re available?_

Shrugging it off, the younger-looking sex doll made good use of his Stealth as he crept down the stairs, then padded through the foyer. He considered seeking out his owner for some lively entertainment as he padded down the hall that led to a few different rooms, that powder room being one of them. But before he could even get said bathroom door shut, he heard a loud moan that he knew all too well, and he couldn’t help a soft Curse. Judging by the Sound of it, Reagan’d gotten back home from the concert she was going to safe and sound–and his compatriot’d beaten him to the fun.

Knowing she’d get mad, if he were to interrupt them–she always did, if he wasn’t present when the fun first Began–Rich rolled his eyes as he took care of business. However, it was catching the Sound of not just Rob’s voice, but another masculine voice from the master suite that caught his attention. Somehow, that second voice sounded almost identical, yet at the same Time, it sounded completely different to him.

Unable to help wanting to check on his Mistress now, he was quick to flush and wash his hands, even though he wouldn’t get sick from any germs on said hands like she could. Not wanting to get himself in trouble needlessly, he quickly cut through the living room to the outdoor seating area, which sported a fireplace of its own. He knew that there wasn’t enough Light to see him unless one’d some damn good vision, but he’d be able to see into the master suite well enough. After all, he’d only to look through the door and/or window that opened into the lil sitting area, and he’d be able to see straight through the archway to Reagan’s bed. Provided he kept quiet and far enough into the Shadows, no one in said bed would see him before he could go back in.

Part of Rich was a bit surprised to peep through said door and see his animatronic compatriot hard at work pounding their Mistress from behind. The other sex doll didn’t typically like taking her like that when he was obviously on the giving End of anal, which he obviously was this Time. But what _really_ surprised him was that there appeared to be a gray-haired man sprawled out beneath said Mistress, who was somewhat crouched over him as he worked in tandem with Rob.

“Ah, Goddess!” she cried, her words a bit muffled due to him being outside.

The younger-looking sex doll heard one of the males with her growl something, but he couldn’t make out what was said and by whom.

_“Ahhhh!”_ Reagan shrieked, her back arching so that she could throw her head back against the other doll’s shoulder.

Said doll was quick to catch her, hauling her against his chest as he plunged into her and held still.

“Dear fuckin’ God.” It was the man sprawled beneath her–who was now clutching her hips as he pushed up against her–who said that.

Rich watched at the trio went limp, only the humans panting almost wildly as they slowly caught their breath. He and his compatriot technically didn’t _have_ to breathe unless they wanted to in order to keep up appearances, so he wasn’t worried by the other doll’s choice _not_ to breathe right now. Worrying about something so silly wouldn’t behoove him since all they really needed to do was stay hydrated for things like cumming.

Once the humans’d caught their breath, he Intended to wait till they weren’t looking so he could disappear back into the living room. Now that he knew his Mistress was safe–even if she’d a man he’d never met in bed with her–there was no reason to worry, let alone continue watching. But it seemed the Wind had other ideas, as a gentle Breeze caught and started playing with his hair, which no doubt reached his nipples much like Rob’s did. The only difference was that his own hair was a few shades Lighter, not to mention pin-straight, rather than slightly wavy like he’d braided it while it was wet.

He wasn’t surprised when the older-looking doll’s Chocolate eyes lit up like he’d just stepped onto his charging dock as he turned his head to look toward the sitting area. Suddenly hearing his much deeper voice in his head only moments after seeing his eyes Light up–which seemed to freak out the gray-haired man–wasn’t much of a surprise, either. Even still, he sighed and nodded as he let his own Light up so he could respond to him in the only way he’d actually hear him at the moment.

_She says get in here before she rips your battery out without turning ya off first,_ Rob told him.

_Then unlock the door for me_ – _interior or exterior, it doesn’t matter,_ he responded. _Didn’t bother grabbing my keys since there’s humans in my room_.

The older-looking doll nodded, his eyes dimming out before the Light illuminating them disappeared as he slowly and gently extricated himself from their Mistress’ orifice.

“What the–I thought that one was upstairs!” the older man said, only managing to sit up partway due to his Mistress still straddling his lap.

“Rich ain’t just a dummy or a mannequin, either,” she giggled, shoving her hair outta her face. “I just said that ’cuz I wasn’t sure if either of them’d wake ’emselves up while y’all were here.”

“Um, what?” The man looked confused as he gently grabbed her chin to make her look at him.

“Remember how she told me to go back to my dock so she could salvage your Night?” Rob snickered, reaching into the drawer of the nightstand on the far side of the room.

“Yeah, I remember,” he answered.

“I was talking about his charging dock,” Reagan laughed. “They’ve batteries that need to be charged like our phones do.”

The man peered down at his feet, which made him respond by wiggling his toes where he could see.

“I’m guessing they charge through their feet or something?” he asked.

“Yeah, that’s their magnetic connection point,” the young woman answered, unable to suppress a shiver moments later.

“You’re cold, Mistress,” Rich said, moving to grab her robe from the hook next to the dresser across from the foot of the bed.

“Well, a lil, but it wasn’t all that, Rich,” she chuckled. “Gods, I’m too tired for this again, and I’m not too sure Rob gets it well enough yet.”

“Hey, just ’cuz we’re dolls doesn’t mean we’re stupid!” said sex doll retorted, gently whomping her with the other pillow.

Reagan snatched the pillow outta his free hand and whomped him across the torso with it, but only after she’d moved outta the human’s lap. Said human was quick to pull the covers over himself, almost as if he were feeling shy, but neither doll paid him any attention. One was taking care of switching out his erection with his flaccid insert while the other was tending to their Mistress’ needs, which was getting her warm. They weren’t too inclined to worry about a human, and whether he was comfortable with them seeing him nude or not since they didn’t particularly care, either way.

Before she could protest, Rich gently scooped his Mistress up once she was wrapped up in her robe, unable to help a smile as she squealed. He knew her post-sex habits as well as he knew those of himself and his animatronic compatriot–if she didn’t have to piss, he’d suck his own inserts after they’d been used on her. Considering she obviously hadn’t gotten up yet, he’d no doubt that she’d to piss, which was why he didn’t set her down again till she was on her feet outside the Water closet door.

“Out, ya brat!” she laughed, gently yet playfully smacking his nude chest.

“Yea, yea, Mistress,” the younger-looking doll chuckled, leaning down to gently kiss her forehead.

“And don’t be trying to freak Bobby out, either,” Reagan warned him as she slid open the pocket door of the Water closet. “Rob’s already done enough of that to the poor guy tonight.”

“Am I to assume Bobby’s the gray-haired man?” he asked, cocking a brow curiously.

“Yeah, that’s Bobby.” The young woman nodded as she stepped into the Water closet. “He’s Rob’s namesake, and the guy Rob’s based on.”

Rich’s eyes widened in surprise, but he simply Returned the nod as he turned to head back to her bedroom.

“Hey, Rich,” the older-looking sex doll said. “Get Bobby settled– _if_ he’ll letcha, that is–while I’m cleaning this before we’ve to listen to Mistress whining and bitching again.”

“I’d rather not, if it can be avoided,” he chuckled.

“This is, like–at least ten different kindsa fucked-up,” Bobby grumbled. “I feel like I’m high on something right now.”

“Dunno whatcha mean by that, but okay,” the younger-looking sex doll said, shrugging.

“Easiest way to describe it–think about when Reagan gets drunk or something,” he told him. “’Cuz I doubt the two of ya can get drunk _or_ high for yourselves.”

“Well, we’re not human, so prolly not,” Rich retorted, gathering up the clothing he didn’t recognize and laying it on the bed next to him.

“Thanks,” the gray-haired man muttered, snatching up what was obviously a pair of boxers.

He merely stood at the ready, waiting to help him however he could, if he proved to be in need of any help at all. Part of him wasn’t surprised when he waved him off, then headed down the hall that led to the front hall where the powder and laundry rooms were. Granted, he was a bit disturbed when he stopped outside the bathroom door, considering how much his Mistress liked her privacy when relieving herself. At least this man was courteous enough to knock before he opened the door, and certainly didn’t step in till she’d called out permission for him to do just that.

Rob chuckled as he finished up his own task, then stowed his erect attachment back in the drawer it belonged in, which caught his attention. The younger-looking sex doll couldn’t help cocking a brow at him curiously, wondering just what was so funny to him. His eyes Lighting up again told him that he wasn’t gonna say whatever was on his mind aloud, although he wasn’t quite sure why.

_He’s still freaked-out that we more or less function like humans,_ the older-looking sex doll told him through what their Mistress called their telepathic link.

_Really, now?_ Rich asked, his own eyes now lit up again.

_Apparently, he’s never seen dolls like us,_ he snickered. _And he definitely wasn’t expecting to see a younger clone of himself tonight._

_Gods, he’ll be needing therapy for months,_ the younger-looking sex doll laughed.

_That, or it’ll convince him to get a female doll of his own,_ Rob told him, a grin crossing his face. _And judging by the way he was throbbing, he could use such a thing._

_Wait, what?_ He couldn’t help the confused look that crossed his own face, neither noticing the man in question come back outta the bathroom behind their Mistress.

_According to even Mistress, humans don’t work quite the same way we do,_ the older-looking doll chuckled. _He throbs harder than we do_ – _something to do with muscles, or something like that_.

“Um, why the hell’s my clone’s eyes lit up?”

Whirling to face behind him, Rich took notice of the pair, their Mistress clearly biting back laughter while the man behind her looked freaked again.

“That basically means they’re talking to each other, if they’re not on their charging docks,” Reagan told him. “Think of it like telepathic Communication since they dunno what Bluetooth is, and I’m too Blessed tired to explain it right now.”

“Jesus–fuck me, nekkid and runnin’,” he groaned. “I swear, my head’s gonna kill me for Days from trying to make it absorb all this.”

Turning enough to gently pat his chest and kiss his cheek once she rose on tiptoe, the young woman suggested they head off to bed and get some sleep. Apparently, it was pretty late by even this Bobby’s standards, and she said something about him having a long Day and Night already. Neither of the dolls could deny that much when his own argument was cut off by a loud yawn, which they’d seen and heard their Mistress do plenty of Times since their delivery. Whenever they heard that particular noise come outta her mouth, one of them usually wound up carrying her in here to bed, she was so tired.

Leaving the pair to get their rest, they weren’t too sure what to do with themselves so that they wouldn’t wake or keep anyone else up. Rob’s battery wasn’t anywhere near dead since he’d been fully charged when he joined their shenanigans, so he didn’t really need his sleep mode unless he got bored. His own battery certainly wasn’t anywhere near dead since he’d also been fully charged upon stepping off his charging dock upstairs.

Even if it was a bit risky, they decided to head out to the living room so they could at least watch TV, considering their Mistress didn’t like them jamming when she was trying to sleep. Not only that, but she’d no doubt get mad, if they woke any of her guests up by doing such a thing, especially if it led to some serious freak-outs. Then again, said guests were no doubt gonna freak out once they came downstairs and saw them, especially if they’d seen Rich on his charging dock upstairs.

Both dolls settled on the couch after grabbing themselves Water bottles, the older-looking doll needing to rehydrate more so than his compatriot. They took care to keep their volume down as they channel surfed for a bit before deciding on the local news once it came on for the Morn. As they chatted during commercial breaks, they both decided they wanted to fuck with their guests at least a lil bit once they started bestirring themselves for the Morn. Neither Intended to put themselves into sleep mode just so they wouldn’t be vulnerable, but they could certainly _pretend_ they’d done so. They’d still be completely aware and able to move and speak whenever they felt like it, but the humans wouldn’t know that till they decided to actually do one of those two things.


	6. Five

“Oh, my– _Riiiikkiiii!_ There’s _two_ of the God-damned things now, man!”

Rob and Rich managed to school their expressions into a calculated blankness that suggested they really _were_ just mannequins where they sat on the couch. The former’d his arms stretched out across the back of it, one hand on his compatriot’s shoulder and an ankle resting on the opposite knee. The latter’d his chin propped in his hand, the elbow of the corresponding arm resting on that of the couch he sat on. His other hand lay in the crook of his elbow, making him appear as if either he was a flesh-and-blood man just relaxing, or as if somebody’d positioned him that way on purpose.

Neither of the dolls so much as drew a breath since they technically didn’t need to, which just added to the appearance of being mannequins. Still, they made sure their lips were at least cracked, considering that they didn’t utilize the same method of talking as humans did. After all, since they didn’t actually have a larynx–it just appeared such, given the way they were constructed–they didn’t necessarily have to move their mouths.

Just moments after the short blonde literally ran outta the living room screaming, he Returned with a taller blonde behind him. He was more hysterical than he wasn’t as he pointed at them, swearing they’d to be alive or something since the one he’d seen the Night previous’d moved. The taller blonde–and even the bald man who brought up the rear of their group–said that their young hostess musta snuck in and moved him during the Night so she could prank them.

It was the appearance of a third blonde–whose height was slightly in between those of the other two–that garnered them a curiously confused look. Still, neither of the dolls moved so much as a fraction of an inch, not even to blink, as he cautiously crept closer to them. Even though they didn’t necessarily _like_ the invasion of personal Space–a concept their Mistress’d taught them well–they didn’t try to swat him away or anything. After all, the Intent wasta make them think they were actually mannequins till their Mistress and that Bobby guy rose for the Morn. Moving to so much as blink or letting their eyes Light up for a telepathic conversation’d defeat that purpose, so they merely continued pretending they were in sleep mode for the moment.

“If I didn’t know any better, I’d swear they were real,” the blonde who’d approached them said as he caressed Rob’s cheek. “Damn well _feels_ like real skin to me.”

Neither doll commented, although both were sure the other was thinking the same thing–and that was ’cuz they were _meant_ to feel realistic, and in more ways than one.

“Besides, this thing’s cheek gives a lil too much down low, but it feels like there’s a cheekbone under there up higher,” he continued.

Rob forced himself to bite back a growl as the human kept gently poking his cheek and jaw, and he knew his compatriot was biting back laughter.

“I don’t care if they’re real and just good at acting or not–they’re fuckin’ _freaky,_ man!” that shortest blonde screeched, making both dolls wanna wince and cover their ears.

“Yeah, I’ll definitely give them that,” the tallest blonde agreed, sounding a bit wary, himself. “They’re too Lifelike _not_ to be freaky.”

“Hell, I’m surprised they’re not breathing, they feel so real,” their friend said, turning slightly to look at them.

“’Cuz we don’t have to, if we don’t wanna.”

All three blondes and even the bald man behind them screamed and practically teleported across the room to the kitchen island, where four bar stools lived for casual dining purposes.

“What the– Am I fuckin’ losing it, or did I just hear Bobby?” the tallest blonde asked, a hand clapped to his chest in a startled gesture the dolls’d seen their Mistress use before.

“If _you’re_ losing it, so am I!” the blonde who’d been inspecting the dolls snapped. “’Cuz I swear _I_ heard him, too!”

“What the hell’re ya idiots screaming about? It’s too early for that, if no one’s getting laid.”

Looking over to where the foyer opened into the living and dining room, as well as the kitchen, the small group saw their gray-headed friend glaring at them sleepily. In front of him, their Mistress was yawning as she rubbed the sleep outta her eyes, then turned her still-sleepy gaze onto them. Neither of them could seem to help cocking a brow curiously, and it didn’t seem they’d noticed either of the dolls lounging on her couch. Or maybe they _had_ noticed them, but were pretending they hadn’t just so they could mess with the others’ minds a lil more.

“Those _things!”_ the shortest blonde screeched, pointing an accusing finger at them.

Bobby turned his attention over to the couch, a soft chuckle bubbling up from his throat as he shrugged and moved to settle on a bar stool. “I wouldn’t call them that, if I were you.”

“The hell’re ya talking about, man?” the blonde who’d been inspecting them asked incredulously. “They’re fuckin’ possessed mannequins!”

“We’re not possessed.”

All three blondes just barely bit back another scream as they distinctly heard their friend’s voice again, but never saw his lips move.

“Since when didja become a ventriloquist, man?” the tallest one asked, his wide aqua eyes pinned on his friend.

“Now look, I’ma Creative bastard, but not like _that,”_ he chuckled.

The whole Time they argued with him over whether or not he’d actually gotten into ventriloquism, Reagan couldn’t help laughing under her breath. Even as she headed into the pantry–which sported a separate counter of its own that she kept her Keurig on–she knew damn good and well what was going on. Her dolls were being mischievous by not moving, both utilizing the fact that their speech was powered by speakers hidden under their tonguesta talk without letting their mouths move.

By the Time she’d gotten coffee made for herself and Bobby, she decided it was Time to let the rest of the guys in on the Secret before they gave her a migraine. Otherwise, she’d have to let said dolls beat them up since she wouldn’t be in the mood to so much as breathe, let alone anything else. Clearing her throat as she raised her mug for that first sip got all their attention on her, although she knew it seemed like the dolls weren’t listening to her in the slightest. After all, they hadn’t so much as allowed their eyesta flick in her Direction like those of a flesh-and-blood human that was listening to her woulda. They still appeared to be staring into Space like they were actually mannequins, but she could tell they were listening Intently.

“Time to give it up, boys, before somebody’s a heart attack,” the young woman chuckled.

All but her overnight bed mate seemed confused–till the dolls finally moved so they were looking dead at her.

_“What the fuck!?”_ the shortest blonde screeched, practically climbing his tallest blonde friend’s back like it was a Tree.

“How the– Wait, you’ve a remote or something in your pocket, don’tcha?” the one who’d poked Rob’s cheek asked, a suspicious look on his face.

“Nope,” Reagan laughed. “I’ll letcha search me, if ya really feel the need to. Only ones who get to strip-search me’re those two, maybe Bobby, if he can behave himself.”

When they turned back to look at the couch, they were startled to find the dolls not lounging on said piece of furniture, but resting their weight on the back of the Love seat and arm chair mere feet from them.

“Jesus Christ!” that tallest blonde snapped, his grip on his friend’s legs tightening from where he’d grabbed them to support him as he jumped backward.

_“Ah-low,”_ Rich chuckled, moving to cross his arms as a smirk curved his animatronic compatriot’s lips.

“Did that thing just _talk?”_ the bald man asked, his eyes widening.

Rob simply turned a bemused look on his compatriot as he let his own arms fall to his sides. “You or Mistress is gonna have to turn me off and take my battery out, if they’re gonna keep calling me a _thing.”_

The young woman made a warning Sound that made both dolls pin their gazes on her. “Behave yourself, Rob, ’cuz if I take your battery right now, you’re not getting it back for a month.”

“Oh, Gods–don’t make her do it, man!” the younger-looking doll laughed. “I dunno that I can take that long of her being a bunny-Rabbit by myself!”

Even Bobby cracked up at his words, and even the slightly mock-pleading look on his face as he begged his animatronic compatriot not to be an idiot. Granted, he didn’t blame either one of them for their reactions–no doubt he’d called the older-looking doll a _thing_ enough Times the Night previousta make him mad for a _couple_ months. And if their Mistress was as much a bunny-Rabbit, so to speak, as the Richie Kotzen look-alike claimed–well, he couldn’t say it’d be hard for even a sex doll to keep up with her sometimes, if said Night previous was anything to go by.

The shorter blonde moving to poke Rich’s cheek only earned him a bit of a dirty look as said doll grabbed his wrist before he could actually touch him. He made no bones about not invading his personal Space, now that he was allowing himself to be animated, ’cuz he didn’t like it. Only his Mistress got away with such shit, and that was simply ’cuz he knew she’d punish him one way or another for misbehavior.

It was that very Mistress who snickered as the group looked back to her, the younger-looking sex doll letting go of the man’s wrist before he was tempted to crunch it. After all, what with having a skeleton of Steel and far superior strength than a mere human, it wasn’t like he couldn’t manage such a feat, if he’d really wanted to. Not actually wanting to hurt him along with knowing that’d get him punished was reason enough to let go before he did something stupid, or accidentally hurt him instead.

“They’re not exactly people, _per sé_ –they’re just _based_ on actual people,” Reagan explained with a grin. “After all, I doubted I’d ever meet the _real_ Bobby Dall and Richie Kotzen, so why not?”

“Then what the hell _are_ they?” the tallest blonde asked, bouncing his friend to shift him higher up his back so it was easier to support him.

“If I’m being frank, they’re basically sex dolls,” she laughed. “But they’re not like any sex dolls any of y’all’ve ever seen.”

“Well, no fuckin’ shit,” the one who’d been inspecting them groused. “’Cuz I’m pretty sure there’s no other sex dolls on the Planet that look like one of my best friends and mortal enemies, respectively. Besides, they fuckin’ move on their own and talk, for the Love of God!”

“Gee, I didn’t know we were supposed to stay in sleep mode _all_ the Time,” Rob dead-panned, rolling his eyes as he shared a look with his compatriot.

“Me, either,” the younger-looking sex doll agreed with an eye-roll of his own. “Especially not with threats around.”

“Wait, whaddaya mean?” he asked, shooting them a suspicious look.

“Well, would _you_ wanna go back upstairs and fall asleep with someone or something that could possibly kill ya in your sleep in the house?” Rich asked.

“Well, no,” the tallest blonde answered, sounding a hair sheepish.

“Then why should _I_ wanna go to sleep with what I consider a threat in the house, my Mistress nowhere in sight to explain shit?” he asked. “’Cuz for all I know, you’d rip my battery out without turning me off first, then throw me on a bonfire ’cuz ya thought whatcha did earlier–that I’ma possessed mannequin or something.”

Reagan couldn’t help a chuckle any more than her new lover could as they turned their attention from the dolls back to her. Settling in the gray-haired man’s lap so her tush was parked between his thighs–a position she often settled in with one of her dolls–she started to explain their inner workings. After all, she’d kept her explanation fairly dumbed-down for even said gray-haired man the Night previous, considering she’d been so horny and later too exhausted to really explain it.

“They’re both technically robots,” she said. “And no, don’t start thinking _Terminator_ or some such shit–I keep their cyber security beyond updated so that _won’t_ happen.”

Both dolls shot a confused look at each other, then at her.

“She’s talking about a movie from the 1980s,” the tallest blonde chuckled, finally convincing his friend to get off his back. “Basically, think killer robots taking over the World.”

“Humans’re weird,” the older-looking doll mused.

“Agreed,” his compatriot said before turning his attention back to the conversation at hand.

“Anywhore, they’re made by a company that specializes in realistic sex dolls,” she continued. “Some’ve artificial Intelligence like they do, others really _are_ just mannequins with dildos attached to them–if they’re of the male variety, that is.”

“Wait, seriously?” It was the blonde who was of middle height that asked that, his own eyes widening.

“Let’s just say you’d prolly kill to have an interchangeable crotch like they do, Mr. Diabetic,” the young woman laughed. “It’d definitely save ya a lotta Time and hassle in the bedroom.”

“You’re fuckin’ shitting me,” he said incredulously.

“She’s absolutely not,” Bobby laughed, raising his own mug for a sip before he said anything else. “I saw it for myself last Night.”

Three pairs of blue eyes and a pair of green ones locked onto him, their owners’ faces painted in three different shades of shock.

“Let’s just say having a clone of my thirty-Year-old Self scare the hard-on outta my britches, then turn me on again was more than a lil–shall we say _interesting,”_ he chuckled.

His friends’ jaws all dropped in utter shock as they stared at him, which made him and the young woman in his lap laugh. Rob simply grinned as he took a bow, his brown sugar-colored hair falling over his head so that his face was obscured till he straightened again. A thoughtful look crossed his face as he looked at the man he was based on, then finally said that he definitely wasn’t doing _that_ again anytime soon. Whether they were both comfortable with such a thing or not, he tasted nasty compared to his Mistress, and it wasn’t a flavor he Wished to sample again anytime soon.

Bobby’s face turned Beet-red as the group cracked up at the doll’s blunt Honesty, and he couldn’t help coughing since those words’d made him momentarily choke on his coffee. He hadn’t quite expected this clone of him to be quite _that_ brutally honest about anything, even though he could be that way, himself. Didn’t matter that the doll was based on him, both in looks and personality–it was still unexpected, all the same.

Reagan chuckled as she turned enough to kiss his cheek, telling him that that part might not entirely be the personality the doll’s was based on. After all, due to that artificial Intelligence they possessed, they picked up on various things from their environment much like children did. If they were exposed to a certain behavior pattern enough, they were gonna start displaying it in their own rights. Since she was so brutally honest–with the dolls _and_ with other people–it didn’t surprise her that they’d picked up that mannerism, likely from her.

“I mean, I’ve had ’em for six months, and they haven’t really been exposed to anybody else,” the young woman said. “And I toldja last Night when ya freaked at Rob experimenting that they’re _supposed_ to learn different things.”

“Do we even _wanna_ know whatcha mean by _experimenting?”_ the tallest blonde chuckled nervously.

“I’m _soooo not_ getting into that with ya idiots,” Bobby grumbled, pushing his glasses up his nose from where they’d slipped down to. “Bad enough I was even letting an animatronic doll touch me in the first place, let alone damn near Mule-kicked him across the room.”

“Not like it woulda hurt me,” said doll snickered. “Well, aside from giving me my equivalent of whatcha humans call a headache, that is.”

“Yeah, it’s definitely a lot harder to break a Steel skeleton,” Rich agreed with a chuckle. “Trying to break us like that’s just gonna piss us off.”

“Okay, so these two’re _really_ almost like humans.” It was the blonde who’d been inspecting them who said that. “Dare I ask if they function like humans aside from being able to fuck?”

“We eat for the fun of it, not ’cuz we actually _need_ to,” the younger-looking doll answered. “Finding new flavorsta enjoy when we’re tormenting _her’s_ fun.”

“Staying hydrated, on the other hand…” Rob pushed away from the arm chair he’d been leaning against and opened the fridge, surprising them when he grabbed a Water bottle and promptly twisted off the cap.

“They’ve to stay hydrated, or they can’t cum,” their Mistress snickered. “Well, not without it hurting in most cases since they don’t tend to let themselves get dehydrated enough so that they can’t entirely.”

“Makes me dizzy when I do that,” the older-looking doll grumbled. “She winds up having to drag me through the house like I really _am_ a dummy, if Rich doesn’t do it for her, when I’m dumb enough to let that happen.”

“This is just fuckin’ weird,” the shortest blonde finally said, still hanging further back than his friends.

“No, what’s weird is fuckin’ a chick in tandem with one of them and actually _feeling_ a doll cum,” Bobby dead-panned. “Not even technically letting another guy get me riled up again blew my mind quite as much as _that_ did.”

His friends couldn’t seem to help cracking up at that particular admission, which both dolls outright laughed at. Then again, they agreed with him on not exactly liking the sensation of another male’s orgasm when they’d to work in tandem to please their Mistress. It simply felt weird to even them, although Rob was quick to admit that it felt weirder with a flesh-and-blood human instead of his compatriot. After all, the human’d gotten off harder than they ever did, so it was easier to feel against that interchangeable erection.

Considering that the guys’d technically two more Daysta get to their next tour stop and didn’t exactly feel like exploring that next City–they’d been there countless Times, after all–they all agreed on hanging out with this young woman instead. Granted, the shortest blonde still seemed freaked-out by the dolls, which made her laugh as she said she could always turn them off once they got on their charging docks again. That’d keep them from coming back outta sleep mode till after the humans left, which meant they’d stay hidden and they wouldn’t have to see them again. Said dolls didn’t seem to particularly like that idea, but they also didn’t seem to like the idea of constant screaming and being called _things,_ either.

While they were awaiting the guys’ decision on that, Rich headed upstairsta his bedroom so he could grab said charging dock. He wasn’t exactly comfortable with the Thought of putting himself into sleep mode in a room where there was a human that was clearly terrified of him any more than said human wanted to sleep in the same room as him. That was just asking for trouble in one way or another, should the human decide to attack him as a way of preventing him from waking up again before his system was warmed up enough to defend himself.

Once that second charging dock was in his Mistress’ closet, he Returned to the living room long enough to lean down so he could kiss her. His mocha-colored hair fell over his shoulders so that it blocked their faces from view as he did so, then gently rested his forehead against hers for a few moments. Rob was quick to do the same before they headed off to her closet, neither of them exactly surprised to hear the group following behind them.

In said closet, they both turned so their backs were against the wall and took a backward step onto their charging docks. The second their feet were in the proper positions, their bodies seemed to go limp as their eyes lit up for a few moments, which freaked all but Bobby out. Laughing as she reached under their overshirts while they wouldn’t feel her so she could flip their power switches, Reagan explained what that meant. The group of blondes seemed relieved when she said that their eyes lighting up like that meant they’d formed a full connection with their charging docks, which almost instantly put them into sleep mode. However, with their power switches turned off, they wouldn’t wake back up till she turned them on again, even once their batteries were fully charged.

But even as they headed back to the kitchen to finally start on breakfast, now that the dolls were put away for the Time being, that made Bobby start to really think about something. While he was by no means even bisexual, let alone gay, he couldn’t help but wonder what it’d be like to have one of his own. He decided he’d ask the young woman once the rest of the guys were outta earshot to find out more about these things.


	7. Six

Once the rest of the guys were in the pool, which reminded him more of a Hidden Tropical Cove back home in Florida than it didn’t, Bobby settled in the living room with his young hostess. He got the feeling that if he didn’t ask what was on his mind now, he wouldn’t get a chance before they were forced to leave and continue the tour. The mere Thought of trying to ask something like that with his friends within earshot was downright mortifying, so he knew actually doing so’d be even more mortifying. But considering he’d never met anyone else who owned such a thing, he knew this young woman was the only one he _could_ ask about those dolls.

“So, where on God’s green Earth didja _get_ those dolls?” he asked, now that they were alone again.

“From a company online,” Reagan answered with a chuckle. “I saw an article in my Facebook feed that was written about a version that really just had the interchangeable cocks and a warming feature.”

“Warming feature?” the bassist asked, his brow cocked curiously.

“As in, a built-in heater to make the body _feel_ more like an actual human’s,” she laughed. “Gods know having those two on cold Nights for that feature, alone is awesome.”

“I’m guessing that even with a few inches between ya, it’s like having Space heaters in the bed?” Bobby chuckled.

“That, or being wrapped up in an electric blanket,” the young woman answered, nodding. “Difference is, _they_ don’t have to be plugged in to manage that.”

“Even in that sleep modeja were talking about?” he asked. He couldn’t help sounding surprised, nor his brows rising slightly.

“They just have to be turned on for that to happen,” Reagan told him with a grin. “Their batteries’ll generate enough power for the heater to keep functioning till they go dead, as long as they’re turned on. Turn ’em completely off like they are right now, and they’ll cool down once the batteries’re charged.”

The bassist couldn’t help a thoughtful look as he pondered that, considering that with old age came a tendency to get cold easier. Granted, he almost never got cold like he was hanging out in the Upper Midwest or New England during the middle of Winter, but he could still get chilled easier. If the bus’ AC was turned down too low for his liking, he definitely felt that chill easier than he’d felt it in his younger Years. Unfortunately for him, though, there were too many people–half of which were significantly younger–that overheated in their sleep easier than he did.

Even as a blush crept up his cheeks, he couldn’t help wanting to know more about the company she was talking about. The first thing he wanted to know was if male dolls were the only kind they made, ’cuz if that was the case, it wouldn’t do him any good to ask any further questions. He wasn’t about to buy a male doll that was gonna wanna fuck him up the ass just so he could stay warm on his bus, and even at home.

Reagan grinned almost mischievously as she told him that the company she’d ordered Rob and Rich from made female dolls, too. They could be made based on just about any facial structure and body type one could think of, but there was a catch. Custom dolls always cost more than the pre-fabricated ones, ’cuz adding all the custom details made their Creation take longer. Not only that, but they could sometimes use more material than just the standard doll, which also ran their prices up higher.

Bobby was definitely a bit surprised when she admitted that she’d paid over a hundred grand apiece for each of the dolls now charging in her closet. She explained that–by wanting every last possible detail with the exception of the tattoo he’d gotten for his ex-wife the way it was supposed to be–a lotta Time, man power, and materials’d gone into those dolls. Having them pre-programmed with the personalities of the guys they were based on’d also cost her a pretty penny, but it was more than worth it. Not only did they keep her entertained as far as sex went, but they lived up to their basis and namesakes as closeta perfectly as she could imagine for barely knowing him and definitely not knowing Richie at all.

“So, what madeja decide to even invest in them in the first place?” the bassist asked curiously. “And don’t tell me it was _just_ thinking you’d never get to meet Richie and I, ’cuz I don’t believe that for a second.”

“I’ve some nasty Trust issues when it comesta humanity at large, but especially men,” Reagan admitted, sounding like she _really_ didn’t wanna talk about it, but was forcing herself to.

He definitely couldn’t say he _wasn’t_ surprised by that admission, considering how quickly she’d seemed to trust him the Night previous.

“I’ve had so many guys want me for nothing but pussy, it’s ridiculous,” the young woman continued. “And I can’t tell ya the number of Times I’ve at least _suspected_ I was cheated on, but never could prove it, so I decided to walk away instead of confronting the guy when I lacked any proof.”

“Oh, darlin’,” Bobby murmured, wrapping her in a gentle hug.

“At least if those two ever irritate me, or I find somebody I actually _wanna_ be with like that again, all I’ve to do is take their batteries out so they won’t start leaking and damage their bodies, then put ’em in storage,” she sighed as she leaned into him. “I mean, I can always get new batteries later on, if I ever have a need for them again and the current ones need to be replaced from going unused for too long.”

“That’s definitely true enough,” the bassist mused as he rubbed her back. “I still hate hearing that you’ve been through enough shit that you’d rather swear off men and be fucked by an animatronic sex toy, though.”

“As if you haven’t damn near done the same thing, from what I can tell,” Reagan retorted with a laugh.

“Hey, I’ve never sworn off women, in general in my Life!” he shot back with a laugh of his own. “I’ve just sworn off relationships since my divorce, ’cuz every Time I try, it blows up in my face!”

“Yeah, I know the feeling,” the young woman agreed. “Tried that to start with, but one-Night stands and friends-with-benefits did nothing for me, so I swore off men as a whole. And kinda like you said about your cock last Night, my own tits and pussy don’t interest me, so why would another woman’s?”

_“Touché.”_ Bobby nodded his agreement as he pulled back just enough to look at her.

“But now, you’ve my Curiosity piqued,” she said, unable to help a slightly mischievous grin. “Why on the Goddess’ green Earth’re _you_ asking such in-depth questions about a toy that freakedja out last Night?”

The bassist couldn’t help that blush Returning to stain his cheeks again as he debated answering her question honestly, or just brushing it off. Course, like he’d told himself earlier, he didn’t exactly have anybody else he _could_ ask these kindsa questions of. Maybe it was better to just be honest with her, whether she was a woman after his own heart in the highly valuing Honesty department or not.

After taking a deep breath that he released in a heavy sigh, he forced himself to look her in the eye as he took another breath. He couldn’t help being nervous as he answered her question any more than he could help that blush, and he honestly felt kinda ridiculous. Considering that he was a man long grown, not some teenage boy with his first crush, he couldn’t really be blamed for feeling that way. Then again, maybe it’d something to do with the fact that he was also highly attracted to this woman, and that was feeding into it.

“Well, I’ll admit that I definitely get cold easier than I used to, especially considering that I’m used to the heat and humidity of Florida,” Bobby finally said. “So, having even a doll to help keep warm on the bus’d definitely be a plus.”

“I can understand that,” the young woman agreed. “Hell, I practically admitted that sometimes, all I want Rob and Rich in bed for is to keep me warm at Night.”

“Another thing having one of those dolls for myself’d be good for–no more groupies,” he chuckled. “I wouldn’t have to worry about trying to convince some woman to join me for the Night, nor whether I was gonna catch something from any I _did_ convince of such a thing.”

“Definitely a fair point,” Reagan said, nodding against his shoulder.

“Yeah, it’d be weird for me to know my band knew I was sleeping with a fuckin’ doll–in more than one way, at that–but hey, seems like the pros outweigh the cons here,” the bassist told her.

“You’d basically just have to decide if ya wanted a silicone mannequin, or an actual animatronic doll like mine,” she chuckled.

“Eh, I’m not too sure just a mannequin’d be any fun,” Bobby laughed. “That’d prolly be about as much fun as my right hand after a while.”

“Whyddaya think I went with animatronic dolls instead?” the young woman asked with a grin. “They don’t just fuck me–they’re companions in a platonic sorta way, too.”

“Not to mention more lively, even in a dirty sense,” he snickered. “At least it’s not like you’re just riding a dildo or something.”

“Seriously, ’cuz I’d enough of _that_ in the few Years _before_ I bought those two!” Reagan laughed.

Now that his Curiosity was _really_ piqued, the bassist couldn’t deny that having one of these dolls–although of the female variety–was sounding like a better idea than it had before. If he could not only get what amounted to a permanent fuck buddy, but a companion that kept him from losing his mind in other ways, too–well, he didn’t see any reason _not_ to give it a shot. Still, he was a bit undecided about that for one big reason, but he was honestly more than a lil scared to admit what that reason was.

Bobby wouldn’t deny that he was so attracted to this woman–despite her being so much younger than him–that he wanted to get to know her better. With that being the case, he’d admit that–if he were to actually go through with getting one of these dolls–he’d want it to be based on her. However, he didn’t know her well enough to do such a thing yet, and he doubted she’d just give him a list of her personality traitsta work with.

“All right, spit it out,” the young woman chuckled. “’Cuz I can tell just by the look on your face that there’s _something_ on your mind.”

“What?” He couldn’t help a chuckle of his own, even though it held a bit of a nervous note. “No, there’s not.”

“Yeah, and I can pull my pussy out to replace it with a cock when I wanna,” Reagan laughed. “Bobby, don’t try to lie to me, ’cuz I’m no more an idiot than I’m one of the female dolls with an insertable honey pot.”

The bassist fidgeted nervously, debating whether he should actually tell her or not.

“Bobby…” Her voice held a bit of a warning note as she gave him a hard look.

“Hey, I can’t help that part of me’d want any doll I bought for myself to be based on you!” Bobby finally blurted out, his face almost instantly turning red as he hid it behind his hands with a groan.

“Oh, so you’d wanna be fuckin’ a skeptical, temperamental bitch all the Time, huh?” the young woman asked with a laugh.

He looked confused as he peeped out from behind his fingers almost like a shy lil boy.

“When I say I’ve Trust issues, especially with men, I ain’t kidding,” Reagan told him, grinning. “Can’t help my temper, either–whether it runs in the family, comes from being an Air Witch, or comes from my Inner Fire Witch, it can be pretty brutal sometimes.”

“Well, so can my own temper,” the bassist chuckled, his face still red.

“And I get called a bitch so much, even when I’m trying to be niceta someone, I started taking it as a compliment instead of an insult,” she admitted.

“Kinda like _I_ get called an asshole more often than I don’t, it seems,” Bobby said. “Course, that usually happens when I’m just in no mood to interact with fans–or really _any_ of humanity–and folks just won’t back off, no matter how polite I am.”

“Oh, I’ve been accused of having something called _resting bitch face_ –even by my dolls,” the young woman laughed.

“Something tells me you’re not a _total_ bitch, though,” he told her. “I mean, c’mon–ya let five guys ya don’t even know from Adam’s fuckin’ house Cat crash in your house instead of just making us figure out lodging arrangements on our own.”

Now it was Reagan’s turn to blush as he called her out on that fact.

“We coulda been out to gang-rape and murder ya for all you knew, yetcha still let us crash here,” the bassist continued. “And not only that, butcha lemme in your bedroom with ya, no questions asked, and agreed to let us stay here till we’ve to leave for Cincinnati, not just overnight like you’d no doubt originally planned.”

It took her a few moments, but she finally admitted that she’d certainly been a bit nervous about letting any of them in the house with her. She’d been even more nervous about any of them knowing where she slept, just in case they decided to try anything slick. But knowing that both her dolls’d been turned on at the Time and were the protective type–just like the men they were based on–she’d decided to have a lil Faith. Even if all she got outta it was another one-Night stand and the Knowledge of whether he was actually an asshole or not, she just didn’t have it in her to deny either one of them.

Bobby couldn’t help the grin that crossed his face at hearing that admission, which told him something he doubted he’d get her to admit aloud–at least, not anytime soon. Those few words told him that she was a genuine, caring Soul who’d just been hurt too many Times and needed someone to prove to her that not all men were the same, even if they seemed so in the very Beginning.

He couldn’t help the sudden urge that overcame him and made him gently cup her cheek, which seemed to take her by surprise. Another thing he couldn’t help was how his eyes no doubt started to smolder like they’d undoubtedly done the Night previous as his gaze flickered down to her lips. Fuck, but what he wouldn’t give to feel those lips against his own–not to mention in _other_ places–again like he’d felt last Night. But after having been told about why she’d gotten her sex dolls in the first place, there was a part of him that couldn’t bring himself to actually kiss her again. It wasn’t like he wanted to push, never mind cross any boundaries she’d set that he might not know about, and thus push her outta her Comfort zone.

Apparently sensing that, Reagan couldn’t help a somewhat shy smile as she leaned in a bit closer to him, her own hands coming up to cup his jaw. She also couldn’t help her soft giggle at hearing the fairly content hum he let out, especially as she started to slowly tilt her head and leaned in closer still. Neither of them noticed the rest of the guys watching with almost ecstatic grins through the back windows as their lips finally met, the pair too caught up in the tender sensations and Energiesta pay attention to anything else.


	8. Seven

By the Time Bobby and the rest of Poison’d to leave to continue their tour, it felt like it’d been three weeks–or maybe even three _months_ –rather than just three Days. Watching them pull outta her driveway once they’d loaded up their sparse belongings that they’d brought with them, Reagan couldn’t help an almost overwhelming sense of grief and loss. Part of her Wished the Silver Fox didn’t have to leave, ’cuz she’d started getting a lil _too_ Emotionally attached for her own good, but another part was kinda glad he was leaving. Regardless of whether they’d traded numbers or not–which they _had_ –she needed some Time alone to process her Thoughts and feelings, which she wouldn’t get, if he’d stayed.

The second they were warmed up enough to be capable of even moving once she turned them back on again later that Night, Rob and Rich immediately knew something was wrong. Even if they hadn’t been able to feel the weird Energy shift floating in the Air, the way their Mistress was acting woulda given it away. She seemed downright depressed compared to her normal happy-go-lucky Self, like she’d gotten a few Times when she’d start thinking about her deceased grandfather.

Neither of the dolls could help a soft growl, both in complete agreement on wanting to track down this band and throttle its bassist for upsetting their Mistress like this. Glaring at them, the young woman threatened to have them run through a car crusher at the local junk yard, if they dared do such a thing. It wasn’t like Bobby’d Intentionally hurt her–in fact, that was the last thing he’d set out to do, and she damn well knew it. She just couldn’t help how quick she wasta form an Emotional attachment to someone sometimes, and this was one of those Times–not that having sex with him’d helped her in any way.

“We just don’t like seeing ya upset like this, Mistress,” Rob murmured, pulling her against his chest.

“You’re too special for a guy to be doing that to, even if it wasn’t Intentional,” his animatronic compatriot agreed.

“Whyddaya think I bought y’all?” she sniffled, letting the younger-looking doll start rubbing her feet. “At least y’all can be repaired and reprogrammed as many Times as need be or I want–human men aren’t like that.”

“I should hope we never do anything to deserve being reprogrammed,” Rich chuckled. “I rather like who I’ve turned out to be, even if I’m not identical to the man I’m based on.”

The young woman couldn’t help a chuckle of her own, the gentle foot massage making her sigh.

“Let’s getcha to bed, Mistress,” the older-looking doll said after a few minutes. “It’s easier to snuggle ya when we’re in bed than here on the couch.”

“No erect attachments, either,” his compatriot added.

“Yeah, ’cuz as fun as the sex is, tonight’s just not the Night for that,” Rob agreed, gently cradling her to his chest as he rose.

Reagan couldn’t help the small smile that curved her lips as the younger-looking doll went ahead of them to make sure the bedroom door was open, and that any obstacles were cleared outta their path. By the Time they made it to the master bedroom, he was already stripped and waiting patiently for his compatriot to settle her on the bed.

As he settled into bed next to her once she’d stripped down to her own bare flesh, the older-looking doll followed suit before settling on her other side. She sighed softly as she settled so that her head rested on Rich’s strong chest, her ear pressed right above where his mechanical heart was. Designed to function much like the human heart, just for circulating his coolant and hydraulic fluid instead, its rhythmic Sound was just as peaceful as that of Bobby’s heartbeat. If it acted as it normally did, especially when combined with the heat produced by his heater, there wasn’t a doubt in any of their minds that she’d be asleep soon.

Within half an hour of settling into bed, the young woman was asleep where she lay snuggled between her dolls like they were flesh-and-blood men. Rob glanced up at his compatriot, his eyes glowing in that telltale way that meant he was about to say something not meant for their Mistress’–or anyone else’s–ears. Nodding, the younger-looking doll let his own eyes Light up so he’d hear him and be able to respond, part of him not surprised by what he’d to say.

_This Bobby character better hope he doesn’t Intentionally hurt her,_ he said with a bit of a growl. _’Cuz so help me Goddess, if he does, I’ll have a lil_ too _much fun tearing my namesake to shreds_.

Nine and a-half weeks later, as the _Stadium Tour_ came to an End at its final date at the SoFi Stadium in Los Angeles, Bobby couldn’t be more glad than he was. He loved touring–he’d never denied that in the thirty-some-odd Years that he’d done it–but that didn’t mean being crammed into a rolling Tin can with so many other guys didn’t get old after a while. The fact that no other woman’d interested him after meeting Reagan certainly didn’t help, ’cuz he refused to sleep with just anyone now. Course, he’d always been kinda picky about his lovers, even if he seemed otherwiseta his friends, band mates, and crew sometimes.

As they were running through Sound check that afternoon, he didn’t have the slightest inkling what kinda surprise he was gonna get. He hadn’t seen the young woman who’d caught his attention and held it so strongly ever since the Morn he’d left her house. Keeping in touch with one another through texts, not to mention phone and video calls just wasn’t the same as seeing each other in person.

The rest of his band knew there was something up with him–he hadn’t quite been the same ever since that show in Nashville, and it was pretty obvious. Even the other bands on the tour roster could tell something was up, but he wouldn’t talk to any of them–not even fellow bassist Nikki Sixx–about it. If he’d been acting really and truly depressed–which woulda been completely outta character for him–they’d have tried forcing the issue. But since he really just seemed like he was ready to go back home, they decided not to pester him over it.

Just as they were handing off their gear so that Mötley Crüe could run through their own Sound check, they heard their manager call out from across the stadium. Looking up into the stands, they thought they saw someone trailing behind him, but they weren’t too sure if they were just seeing things or not from this distance. But as the pair drew closer, they were able to tell that Bert _did,_ indeed have someone else with him–and it appeared to be a woman. Not even the slightly older band–who’d paused in their movements on the stage–said anything as they drew nearer still, which put their faces into more focus. The second he realized who was trailing behind his manager, the Silver Fox’s face positively lit up like a _Yule_ Tree as he laughed.

“What on Earth’re _you_ doing here, girl?” he asked as he picked her up and spun her around like he was half his age again.

“Bobby!” Reagan shrieked, unable to help a laugh of her own as she gently pounded on his shoulders. “Put me down, ya Blessed Neanderthal!”

“Don’tcha mean _big-dicked_ Neanderthal?” the bassist chuckled in her ear so only she’d hear him before gently Returning her to her feet.

“That, too, ya lovable ass,” she laughed.

“Ya still haven’t answered my question,” Bobby said, a grin veritably splitting his face.

“Came out West for some help with a _project,”_ the young woman chuckled.

“Oh–and what _kinda_ project?” He couldn’t help his Curiosity as he turned to lead her backstage, the guys falling into step behind them.

“Uh, uh, uh–I won’t be able to surprise ya on your birthday, if I don’t chooseta give it to ya sooner than that,” Reagan playfully admonished him, waving a finger at him.

_“Oooh.”_ The bassist’s grin somehow only grew as he rubbed his hands together. _“That_ kinda surprise, huh?”

“Maybe, maybe not–you’ll just have to wait and see,” she laughed, her eyes twinkling mischievously.

“I’m guessing ya didn’t bring a certain other pair with?” Bobby chuckled as they settled in his band’s dressing room moments later.

“Nah, didn’t feel like scaring the shit outta the rest of the tour roster,” the young woman answered. “Or having to explain _that.”_

“Prolly a good thing ya didn’t,” Bret chuckled. “C’s still creeped out by them.”

The guitarist playfully whomped him with a nearby throw pillow, reminding him that he’d been just as freaked out at first, if only by the one talking without moving its mouth. Considering how much like their band mate in his younger Years it looked, that’d only added to the effect, and besides, even Rikki’d screamed like a girl at one point. Said drummer blushed as he snatched the pillow and beaned him with it, swearing up and down that he most certainly _did not_ scream like a girl.

Reagan playfully retorted that he most certainly _had_ screamed like a girl, especially since both dolls’d moved across the room when all their backs were turned. She and the Silver Fox’d seen them ’cuz they hadn’t bothered turning away, but none of the others had since they’d turned to face her. Coming face-to-face with them when they’d been lounging on the couch woulda no doubt made anybody scream like a girl, especially considering that her dolls were quite stealthy when they felt like it. They even managed to startle _her_ sometimes, if they didn’t purposely stomp through the houseta let her know they were heading in her Direction. And needlessta say, much like she was sure was true of their namesakes, they enjoyed such antics immensely.

As they hung out backstage till it was Time for them to start getting ready for their show, the young woman almost couldn’t contain her excitement. She wasn’t about to tell the man she was unofficially dating what kinda surprise she’d in store for him, even though he’d get it long before his birthday. If she hoped for anything beyond that he liked his surprise once he got it, it was just that he didn’t think it presumptive of her. Otherwise, she just Wished she could be there to see the look on his face, but she knew that wouldn’t be possible, so she’d just have to settle for any phone calls he gave her about it.

* * *

Three Days later, after arriving back at his home in Florida and not being anywhere near adjusted yet, Bobby let out a loud yawn as he finally rose for the Day. He was still working on getting used to being back home, let alone running on East Coast Time again, so it was nearly two in the afternoon before he woke. Luckily, his son was the manager of the restaurant he owned, and as well as he handled business when he was outta town, he knew he could trust him to continue doing so now.

A sudden, almost pounding knock at his front door as he stretched his arms over his head where he’d paused in his bedroom doorway startled him. Whether he was young or old, he was hard-pressed _not_ to shit himself as he damn near jumped to the top of the vaulted part of his family room ceiling. Course, _he_ was the one way off his normal schedule, not the rest of the World, but that didn’t mean he’d been expecting that Sound.

Grumbling as he half-stumbled around the corner from his bedroom door and past the lil half-wall that offered at least a lil bit of definition between foyer and dining room, the bassist was ready to have a _Queen of Hearts_ moment. Even still, he managed to rein in his temper before he went off on somebody who didn’t deserve it as he unlocked the front door. Turned out that reining himself in was prolly a better thing than he coulda imagined, considering there was an obvious delivery man standing outside when he opened the door. He just couldn’t Begin to imagine why unless one of his kids’d ordered something while he was on the road.

“Delivery for a Mr. Robert Kuykendall,” the guy said.

“Um, that’d be me,” Bobby told him, reaching up to quite literally scratch his head in confusion. “But I don’t recall ordering anything–hell, I just got back home last Night.”

“Says here it’s from a Miss Logan,” he chuckled, gently patting what he now realized was a Wooden crate.

It took a few seconds for it to click before he realized who he was talking about, which made the bassist laugh as he took the clipboard. “Sorry, you’ll have to forgive seeming like an idiot–I just woke up, and I haven’t grabbed any coffee yet.”

“Hey, it happens,” the delivery man laughed, taking the clipboard back. “Whereddaya want it?”

“Uh, right there behind the couch’s fine,” Bobby said, opening both doorsta make this part easier for him.

“Unless ya need any help, my advice–grab a crowbar,” he chuckled, sliding the hand truck he’d used out from under the crate once it was stable on the floor. “They quite literally _nail_ these things shut for a reason.”

“Oh, I’m sure, if it’s what I think it is,” the bassist laughed. “I think I’m good, though.”

“Then have a great one.” With a knowing wink, the guy headed back out the front door, leaving him to his own devices.

“Reagan, ya lil she-devil, you,” he chuckled under his breath, even though he knew he was home alone.

Before he even headed through his laundry room to the garage for that recommended crowbar, Bobby set a cup of coffee to brew. If this was anywhere near closeta what he already suspected it was, he was absolutely sure it was gonna involve reading instructionsta some extent. Granted, he didn’t normally read instructions for shit–he was a guy, after all, and that wasn’t exactly something guys were known for doing. Then again, if his suspicion was true, he wouldn’t exactly wanna do anything that was gonna break the contents of that crate that coulda been avoided by simply reading a lil booklet.

Once that coffee was brewing, he headed out to his garage since that was where he kept pretty much every tool he could possibly need. Hell only knew when one of his road cases’d show up after a tour and damn near be nailed _and_ welded shut on him to ensure none of his gear got damaged in transit. Were it not for that reason, he wouldn’t even have a hammer, let alone a crowbar to open this damn crate with right now.

Thankfully, all it took was a few good whacks with that hammer to get the crowbar wedged into place, then pry loose what was essentially a front door. Course, the bassist groaned when he finally managed to dig through what seemed to be a Sea of bubble wrap and packing peanuts, only to find the crate’s contents even zip-tied into it. He swore up and down as he headed into his kitchen to not only grab a pair of scissors, but his coffee, too that whoever’d packed this thing was one sadistic mother fucker. Then again, maybe that’d been a special request on Reagan’s part just to torment him that much more, as sadistic as she seemed like she could be at Times.

Finally managing to get the silicone body outta its crate without damaging it, Bobby laid it out on the couch so he could give it a thorough inspection. Dressed in black, ripped boot-cut jeans and what appeared to be a black or Dark gray tank top emblazoned with the word _Bratz_ and one of the dolls–apparently Sasha–this doll looked like a perfect replica of the young woman he’d call his girlfriend in a heartbeat. Not only that, but there was another shirt stuffed down the back of her tank top, and he wasn’t too sure if it was as padding or not.

“But of course, it’d be a _Sailor Moon_ shirt,” he laughed after unfolding it and taking a look at what was emblazoned on its front. “And apparently there’s yet another one, too.”

It turned out to be what they were calling the _Talk Dirty to Me_ baseball tee from his band’s own website, which was emblazoned with the cover of their debut album and the aforementioned song title. The bassist couldn’t help laughing as the proved to him just how much of a fan this young woman was, and he almost cast the shirt aside–till he realized there was something taped to the back of it.

Pulling the piece of paper loose, Bobby found a note that warned him to check through all the shipping material carefully. While she knew damn good and well he was gonna dress his new toy however he felt like dressing her–even in nothing at all–the young woman’d bought a few pieces for her already. They were meant to be just as much of things for the doll to wear as hints as to what she liked herself, which’d give him ideasta go on, if he ever decided to get her anything. In fact, the note even said that the _Bratz_ tank top and _Sailor Moon_ tee were supposed to be taken in the same kinda context.

Carefully sifting through the mess he’d made, he was glad he’d found that note, or he’d have essentially thrown the baby out with the bathwater, so to speak. Hidden within all the bubble wrap was another T-shirt–this one again from his own band’s website, but emblazoned with their logo, what appeared to be a bottle of Jack at first glance, and the title of another one of their biggest hits, _Nothin’ but a Good Time_. Next, he pulled out the denim _Every Rose_ jacket they’d started selling within recent Times, too, and he really started to get a feel for this girl’s personality and tastes. It appeared that she was every bit the rocker chick she claimed to be, and that while she’d a Dark, thorny side, there was still a side of her that was Light and beautiful. A smile crossed his face as he thought that, then decided to double-check the note before starting to clean up his mess.

Luckily, there weren’t any other hidden clothing articles that he needed to worry about accidentally throwing away, and cleanup was relatively quick once he got all the shipping material stuffed back into the crate. With that part done, he decided to move the doll into his bedroom, if only so he wouldn’t have to worry about his kids seeing her when they got home from work. He _definitely_ didn’t wanna have to explain what the hell she really was, or whether she was just a random design or based on an actual person.

Once his new toy was hidden in his closet–which was where he’d decided to set up her charging dock after going over that part of the instructions–Bobby made sure the crate was down at the curb for trash pickup. It was only then that he went back inside, now content to just settle on his couch with that instruction book and the coffee he was lucky was still at least warm. Since he couldn’t play with his new toy–not if he wanted it to actually be animated, that is–till it was charged, he figured he might as well figure out what he could and couldn’t do with it from a technical standpoint. After all, he liked being able to shower with his girls, and he doubted this new doll was gonna be any different–as long as she was waterproof, that is.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so I've a few different links for those interested in the visuals... First and foremost is to the one for the house I picked for Bobby _this Time_ –the one I just recently found for a different story's already been taken off the market, and I decided not to use it again. After that come the links for the tank top, T-shirts, and jacket that were mentioned, considering I went into almost _no_ detail on those.  
> ~Firefly
> 
> Link to Bobby's House–https://www.zillow.com/homedetails/4159-Mockingbird-Dr-Melbourne-FL-32934/43445358_zpid/?
> 
> Link to _Bratz_ Tank Top–https://www.hottopic.com/product/bratz-sasha-girls-tank/14011360.html?cgid=girls-tanks#start=25
> 
> Link to _Sailor Moon_ Tee–https://www.hottopic.com/product/sailor-moon-solid-color-guardians-washed-girls-t-shirt/12824031.html?cgid=girls-tees#start=6
> 
> Link to _Talk Dirty to Me_ Baseball Tee–https://store.poisonofficial.com/products/talk-dirty-to-me-baseball-tee-1
> 
> Link to _Nothin' but a Good Time_ Tee–https://store.poisonofficial.com/products/drinks
> 
> Link to _Every Rose_ Jacket–https://store.poisonofficial.com/products/every-rose-has-its-thorn-denim-jacket


	9. Eight

Due to when his kids got home from work and how long it took her battery to reach full charge since it was completely dead, Bobby didn’t get a chanceta play with his new toy the same Day she’d arrived. Something about trying to converse with, let alone fuck even a doll while his kids were in the house just seemed weird to him. He didn’t even wanna give such a thing a shot at nearly Midnight, which wasn’t helped by the fact that he’d been starting to get tired around that Time, too.

On his way to the master bathroom to take a piss around eight the next Morn, he decided to at least turn the doll on. He’d to pass his closet door on his way to and from the bathroom, so he didn’t see any reason _not_ to turn her on as he trekked through his bedroom. Judging by how Reagan’s dolls’d been said to behave, he knew it’d take her a few minutesta boot and warm up, so he figured he’d prolly already be back in bed by the Time that happened. To be quite honest, he mighta already gone back to bed since he wasn’t nearly ready to get up and fallen back to sleep by the Time the doll was completely booted and warmed up so she was at least somewhat functional.

Sure enough, just as he got settled comfortably again, the bassist heard a soft rustling from the vicinity of his closet. Considering the house was dead Silent–son Zach and daughter Zoe’d no doubt already left for work again–he’d have to be completely deaf _not_ to hear it. Even still, he didn’t squirm in the slightest, his left arm curled under his pillow with the other curled up in front of his chest.

Bobby’d almost drifted back to sleep when he felt a gentle touch on his shoulder, which still startled him enough for his eyesta fly open. He supposed he shoulda been expecting it since he’d just turned his new toy on and she was no doubt to be curious, but being mostly asleep left him a bit vulnerable. Starting like he’d done–which in turn startled the doll before him a bit–was just a Natural reaction to being touched when he was in such a state. Even still, he managed a sleepy smile once he Calmed down a hair, the doll looking curiously confused when he scooted back toward the Center of the bed a bit and patted the mattress.

“Well, c’mon,” he murmured, laying his head back down. “I know you’re prolly curious, but I’m still too tired to explain shit right now.”

“So, you’re my Master?” the doll asked, now cocking her head curiously.

_“Mmm hmm.”_ Bobby nodded slightly as he yawned. “I’d rather be called Bobby, though.”

“I like _Master_ or _Daddy_ better,” she giggled, even as she finally moved to join him.

_“Daddy’s_ just gonna be too weird,” the bassist chuckled, wrapping an arm around her as she settled beside him. “My grown daughter not only lives with me, but _she_ calls me that, so it’d just be weird–even though I’m sure you’d mean it in a totally different context.”

“Well, of course–you’re not my father, after all,” the doll laughed.

“Now, assuming I’ll remember later, what the hell am I supposed to call ya?” he asked. “’Cuz I know the name of the woman you’re based on, but that doesn’t mean you’re gonna wanna be called the same thing.”

“Rebel works,” she chuckled, gentle about tossing a leg over his waist. “’Cuz from what my system’s telling me, I’ma rebellious lil bitch–or at least, I’m supposed to be.”

“We’ll see how that Ends up working out later,” Bobby told her. “Right now, I just wanna go back to sleep.”

“Then go to sleep,” the doll said, her voice taking on a bit of a hypnotic quality. “I’m fully charged, so unless I get bored and wanna conserve power, there’s no need for me to put myself into sleep mode yet.”

He simply nodded as he settled down completely, moving his right leg so his knee was wedged between her thighs. Before he allowed himself to drift off again, he warned her that–regardless of what she’d been bought for–he may or may not try to start a romp in his sleep. That was just something that often happened with human males, especially when they’d been deprived for a while like he’d been.

Rebel simply nodded as she let her fingers gently thread through and start playing with the Silvery locks that were spread across his pillow. The man that was apparently her Master seemed to like that, judging by the small smile that crossed his lips again. He sighed softly as he felt her nails–which’d been sharpened to mimic her Inspiration’s freshly-cut nails and been painted in a gothic graveyard design on a purple backdrop–start gently scratching his scalp. Not much could put him to sleep in almost a heartbeat, even when he was as tired as he currently was, but having his scalp scratched like this certainly did it.

Moments later, that hypnotizing voice started singing an unfamiliar tune, but it was soft, slow, and definitely sleep-inducing. The one thing that caught his attention and woulda kept him awake, if he hadn’t been so sleepy was that it definitely _wasn’t_ in English. Bobby didn’t know _what_ language it was in–maybe something European, but he couldn’t say for sure–but it certainly helped lull him to back to sleep. It wasn’t much longer before he went limp as sleep overcame him, his arm seemingly gaining weight were it was wrapped around her waist.

A couple hours after falling back to sleep, the bassist slowly woke again, a smile almost instantly crossing his face as he remembered why he was no longer alone. He wasn’t too sure if the doll snuggled against him was fully awake, or if she’d put herself into sleep mode outta boredom, but she was still by his side, all the same. Granted, that question was quickly answered when feeling his slight squirming made her eyes flutter open, and he couldn’t help but be stunned by their Beauty.

Just like his own and those of the woman she was based on, Rebel’s eyes were a fairly Dark brown–easily the shade of milk Chocolate–with a slightly Darker ring around the outer edges of her irises. Like a human’s, the sclera surrounding them seemed to have tiny veins that appeared a pinkish-red running through them. Now he knew what the young woman he’d met that Summer meant by the upgraded features looking even more realistic, which was why she preferred them. In fact, the same could be said about the finish to this doll’s flesh, which seemed to mimic that of her Inspiration’s, right down to the mild tan lines on her chest and shoulders.

Bobby couldn’t help twitching against her as he recalled the features borne by Reagan, which’d been quite the turn-on for him when he’d met her. A soft gasp met his ears as the doll squirmed in his arms, which made him laugh as he realized she was squirming in responseta that twitch. He shoulda known she’d be engineered to be sensitive like any other woman, considering she was supposed to be so realistic.

“What the hell was that?” she asked, readjusting herself as he twitched again.

“Something I can’t really help right now for a couple different reasons,” the bassist chuckled.

Rebel looked confused as she pushed herself up onto an elbow, her other hand gripping the covers enough to lift them so she could peek under them. “Holy Goddess.”

He couldn’t help another laugh as she took in the sight of his crotch, which was rather impressive, whether he was hard or flaccid. “Yeah, yeah, yeah–your Inspiration calls me a _big-dicked Neanderthal_ all the Time.”

“Well, she’s not wrong, if _this_ is supposed to be a dick,” the doll said, gently grabbing his shaft.

“It…is,” Bobby groaned, unable to help bucking into her hand slightly.

She gasped, jerking her hand back. “You’re hurt, Master!”

“No, I’m not,” the bassist chuckled, grabbing her wrist to pull her hand back into place. “That groan was a good one, ’cuz it meant I liked it.”

Rebel’s eyes widened, which made him grin.

“Trust me, I’m not shy about not liking something,” he told her. “I’ma letcha talk to your Inspiration sometime, andja can ask her how I damn near Mule-kicked her doll that’s based on me across her bedroom for doing something I didn’t like.”

“What on Earth could the doll’ve done that’d make ya respond like that?” The doll seemed curious, even as she allowed her hand to be wrapped around his shaft again.

“You’ll figure it out eventually,” Bobby promised her, his head tilting back against his pillow as she gave him an experimental stroke. “’Cuz God knows I’m not just _telling ya_ everything about me.”

She couldn’t help a snort, even as her programming took over and made her wanna please him in any way she possibly could. There was something that made her get the feeling he already knew quite a bit about her, if she was based on another real person, but she didn’t know a Blessed thing about him. But that was a bit of a challenge for her that she wasn’t gonna back down from unless her battery suddenly went dead on them. Part of her Inspiration’s personality wasta pick and choose which challenges she accepted, but to run into the ones she _did_ choose full-tilt.

The bassist groaned again as she let her programming Guide her into finding damn near every hot spot he possessed. He wasn’t entirely sure how much of her Knowledge was pre-programmed based on what Reagan already knew about him, but he didn’t particularly care. Right now, he was more concerned with getting some action, even if it came from a doll instead of a flesh-and-blood woman.

Bobby soon rolled her onto her back with a growl just like he’d do with any other woman, which even included young Reagan. If he was surprised by anything–which he prolly shouldn’t have been, when he thought about it–it was that this doll was already absolutely drenched. Even as he slowly and gently lined himself up, he supposed he shouldn’t be surprised, considering what the young woman’d told him about her own dolls and their ability to cum. Given that lil tidbit, it stood to reason that–since she obviously wasn’t male and wouldn’t cum the same way–this doll’d possess the ability to get wet like his latest lover did. That certainly wasn’t a bad thing, though–it felt more Natural, and it’d save him money on lube, that was for damn sure.

Rebel mewled as beautifully as her Inspiration once had as he slowly sank into her, her limbs moving to wrap around his neck and waist. He couldn’t help a groan, even as he gave her a gentle kiss like she was an actual human, much the same way said Inspiration often kissed her own dolls. Sure, it felt a lil weird to him since he knew this was just a doll, but at the same Time, it still felt every bit as Natural to him. Another thing that felt just as Natural was when his tip ran into something he’d have to say mimicked a woman’s cervix, which was definitely a bit of a surprise for him. He wasn’t too sure _what_ he’d been expecting, but he certainly hadn’t been expecting her to be anatomically correct, inside and out. If anything, he figured that part stopped on the outside, and he’d basically be fuckin’ a pocket pussy when it came to her innards.

Despite his best efforts, it wasn’t long before the bassist could feel himself coming to that brink, and he knew he wasn’t gonna last much longer. Luckily for him, the doll seemed to be just as sensitive as the woman she was based on, maybe more so–all it took was a single, gentle brush of his thumb over her clit to set her off. His eyes widened for a couple different reasons, mostly ’cuz that always seemed to happen once his own orgasm got set off. But his other big reason was ’cuz it actually _felt_ like this doll was coming around him the same way any other flesh-and-blood woman would.

“Jesus…fuckin’…Christ,” Bobby panted as he collapsed onto his arms. He wasn’t too worried about crushing her, considering he’d already been told these dolls didn’t actually need to breathe.

_“Mmmm,”_ she hummed, her limbs still wrapped around him.

“Not too sure _what_ I was expecting, but definitely not _that,”_ the bassist chuckled once he’d caught his breath.

“Never slept with one of us, huh?” Rebel laughed, even as she played with his hair.

“Never,” he answered, managing to shake his head. “’Cuz I don’t count letting one of Reagan’s dolls help rile me up again after he scared the hell outta me, then join in on the fun as sleeping with him since I didn’t fuck him, and _he_ damn well didn’t fuck _me.”_

_“Touché,”_ the doll still pinned beneath him giggled, her eyes widening as she felt him twitch within her.

“Relax,” Bobby told her with a laugh of his own. “That’s supposed to happen.”

“It _is?”_ she asked, trying to glance between them curiously.

“Well, I don’t have interchangeable crotch pieces like Reagan’s dolls do,” the bassist laughed. “Gotta wait for it to get soft again on its own, whether I cum or not.”

“Never said I didn’t like it,” Rebel retorted with a grin. “Just something to have to get used to, is all.”

He definitely couldn’t deny that as he kissed her again, a soft sigh drifting past his lips as he finally softened enough to slip out. Even though he’d known just by laying her out on the couch, then later moving her to his closet that this doll felt like a human to the touch, it was still a bit to wrap his mind around. She didn’t feel _quite_ the same as her Inspiration did, but certainly more so than just a pocket pussy or something else that was completely inanimate.

After they’d both managed to catch their breath and he felt like his knees’d actually support his weight, Bobby finally made to get up for the Morn. Like the gentleman he’d been raised to be, he helped his new toy up the same way he’d help Reagan up after a romp, chuckling as she more or less obediently followed him to the bathroom. He apparently wasn’t the only one who’d to go, and the only reason he didn’t let her take her turn first was ’cuz having an old-man bladder sucked. She didn’t seem to mind waiting her turn, though, as evidenced by how she kissed him once he stepped back outta the Water closet and told him she’d rather _he_ go first than make a mess by having an accident.

Even as he started the shower since he now felt sticky and kinda gross, the bassist couldn’t help the smile on his face. While he’d been a bit dubious about even looking into getting himself such a toy before, now he was actually grateful that the object of his desire’d done it for him behind his back. He didn’t even care if it was meant to be an early birthday present or not–this was something that’d get a lotta use for a long Time to come.

Once even Rebel’d showered and gotten dressed in the clothes she’d come in again, he decided it was finally Time for coffee. Naturally, she was curious about what he meant since her programming told her that was supposed to be a familiar word, but she didn’t actually know what the substance was supposed to be. He couldn’t help a laugh as he led her to the kitchen, knowing this was gonna be a lot like having a young child again as he set his Keurig to brew. At least the doll’s artificial Intelligence’d allow her to pick up on things a lot quicker, which only widened the grin now splitting his face from ear-to-ear.


	10. Nine

_“So, how’re ya liking that lil_ birthday present, _as it were?”_

Bobby laughed where he sat Indian-style on his bed, his laptop settled on a lil mini desk on the mattress in front of him. One of the things the very woman he was talking to’d gotten him to start doing was putting the device on a hard surface, rather than allowing it to sit directly on his bedding. It not only stayed cooler–and therefore posed less of a Fire hazard–that way, but it could also breathe better, which certainly helped.

“She’s definitely something else, that’s for sure,” he chuckled, hunched over slightly with his chin resting in his hand so he could see and _be_ seen clearly.

_“I’m not sure whether to take that as a compliment, an insult, or a back-handed compliment,”_ Reagan laughed from her End of their Skype call.

“Eh, more of a compliment than anything, considering how much we both know I like _you,”_ the bassist told her. “She’s just something else, ’cuz I swear, she’s more of a curious kitty than both my kids combined when they were lil.”

_“Well, she’s brand-new, so it’ll take her a while to learn the shit that Rob and Rich’ve already learned,”_ she said.

“So, once that happens, she’ll settle down a bit more?” Bobby asked.

_“A lil bit, at least,”_ the young woman answered with a nod. _“I mean, she’s supposed to be a rebellious bitch at heart, so she’ll still have a lil bit of a wild side, if she sticksta her programming like my dolls have.”_

“Makes senseta me,” he mused, Returning the nod. “I guess I’m still surprised by just how Life-like she turned out.”

_“Now, ya shoulda_ known that _was gonna be the case,”_ Reagan said with another laugh.

He started to retort with a smartass remark, but got cut off just as he opened his mouth by a knock on his bedroom door. Knowing damn good and well it was at least one of his kids, he called out permission to enter since he’d at least his PJ britches and a tank top on, rather than responding to his interrupted conversation. At least the young woman he was talking to was understanding, merely waiting patiently for the interruption to End so they could continue their conversation.

“Talking to yourself again, Dad?” his son chuckled after he’d opened his door.

“Actually, no–not that I do that as much as Bret does,” the bassist laughed. “I’m in the middle of a Skype call with someone.”

“Oh, really?” Zach seemed curious as he butted a shoulder up against the doorjamb, a grin on his face.

“Met her earlier this Summer when the tour took us through Nashville,” he answered.

“Ah, that chick that letcha crash at her place when the hotel reservations got fucked-up,” the younger man said, nodding as Enlightenment Dawned.

“That’d be her,” Bobby chuckled. “We’ve kept in touch ever since then, and we both happened to have a free moment and were bored.”

“I get the feeling that’s not all of it, but I _really_ don’t wanna know,” he laughed. “Just don’t lemme hear your shit on the other side of the house, and I don’t give a damn whatcha do.”

“I’d fuck her right up against the wall outside your door, if she’d lemme, since it’s _my_ house, ya brat!” the bassist cackled.

_“I think not,”_ Reagan laughed, the volume of his laptop turned up enough for even his son to hear her clearly. _“Not unless ya wanna face some_ – _ahem,_ dire consequences, _that is.”_

He was quick to shake his head, knowing damn good and well she was talking about turning _her_ dolls loose on him to give him a Night he’d never forget for all the _wrong_ reasons, as far as he was concerned.

_“Then there’ll be no tormenting of the offspring with_ me _as the outlet of torment,”_ the young woman chuckled.

“At least _someone’s_ looking out for us,” Zach laughed.

_“Let’s just say my own mother once gave me a complex to New Year’s Eve with her shenanigans and leave it at that, so I’ma bit more sympathetic to kids_ not _wanting to know the sexual shit their parents do,”_ Reagan told him.

He couldn’t help a laugh as he told her–regardless of what, if anything they did–not to kill his dad ’cuz he didn’t feel like having to report a Death in the Morn, then the younger man Wished them a good Night. Only once his door was closed again did Bobby roll his eyes, his fingers pinching the bridge of his nose as he smirked at his webcam. While he didn’t deny that he loved being a father, there were certainly Times that he’d give anything to go back and prevent such a move. But most of the Time, he loved his kids too much to wanna do that, ’cuz he couldn’t imagine his Life without them in it, no matter how much they irritated him sometimes.

The young woman grinned as she said that she was sure just about _all_ parents felt like that at one point or another. After all, having kids wasn’t the same as just being able to take a battery outta a doll and put said doll in storage, which was part of her reason for not wanting any kids. She also simply didn’t want that kinda Responsibility since she considered herself a lil too wild and flighty to truly make a good mother.

“Ah, I think ya could manage it, if ya put your mind to it,” the bassist told her.

_“Maybe so, but I also know how much like my own mother I am,”_ Reagan retorted. _“If there’s anyone on the Planet who_ shouldn’t _have ever had kids, it was_ that _woman.”_

“Damn, what a way to talk about your mother,” he winced, his nose scrunching. “I couldn’t imagine ever saying that about Mom, even before she passed a few Years ago.”

_“Well, I can safely say that getting a phone call right here, right now telling me that my Birth Creature was dead would be more of a relief than depression-inducing,”_ the young woman admitted. _“She mighta been the one to bear and at least somewhat raise me, but that doesn’t make up for all the mental, Emotional, and verbal abuse that ran me off to start with.”_

Bobby couldn’t help another wince as he thought about it like that. “Ya know, when ya put it like that, I can’t say as I blame ya for feeling that way.”

_“I didn’t think ya would,”_ she chuckled. _“Most don’t when I finally open up enough to reveal why I hate humanity as a whole, but especially my family, and therefore tend to prefer the company of my dolls over other humans.”_

Getting their conversation back on track, now that they were talking about the trio of sex dolls they owned, he couldn’t help wondering about a few things. First and foremost, he was curious about the design she’d picked for the manicure and pedicure of the doll she’d bought to surprise him with. He wasn’t sure if it actually played into her personality, or if it was just the only design she could stand and thought he’d like, too.

Reagan grinned as she admitted that it was actually a mixture of both since it was a custom design, not any that was otherwise offered by the manufacturer. She wasn’t exactly much of a girlie-girl, although she certainly had her moments when she’d get _dolled-up_ –and cleaned up quite well when she did, at that. But the graveyard scene was also supposed to hint at her Love of the paranormal and supernatural, which included Ghost hunting. One could conduct a Ghost hunt just about anywhere–a house, a graveyard, etc.–but that particular design not only fit the overall design she was going for, but fit hers and the doll’s personality the best.

His next point of Curiosity was the obvious Charm bracelets that she’d turned into anklets, which were secured around each of his doll’s ankles. Bobby’d grown up in a Christian household and had _been_ Christian his entire Life, so he wasn’t too sure what to make of the Charms. In not knowing what any of them meant–to her or in general–he was almost tempted to take the anklets, as well any any other similar jewelry off the doll and just put the pieces in a jewelry box or something.

_“They’re symbolic of my being Pagan,”_ the young woman told him. _“Like with your cross_ – _which I_ hate _seeing ya wear, by the way_ – _the symbols’re only as evil as they’re made to be.”_

“What’s that supposed to mean, though?” he asked, confusion marring his features.

_“That to me, the Pentacle_ – _which’s the five-pointed Star encased in a Circle_ – _is just as much a symbol of Protection as your cross is to you,”_ Reagan answered. _“It’s not evil, no matter which way the fifth point’s turned_ – _that’s all in the Intent of the person using it.”_

“Uh, I think I _kinda_ get it,” the bassist said a bit uncertainly.

_“Basically, think of it as a physical embodiment of the Five Elements_ – _Spirit, Earth, Air, Fire, and Water_ – _and the Protection of my Goddess kinda like the cross is a physical embodiment of what Jesus went through, and the Protection that Christians believe_ he _offers_ them,” she chuckled.

That definitely made a lot more sense, which got Bobby to nod this Time.

_“The broom_ – _which’s actually called a_ Besom _in Paganism_ – _Chalice, and Cauldron’re all integral Tools of the Craft,”_ the young woman continued. _“Well, for most Witches, that is_ – _I don’t really have a need for those things since I don’t actually do spell work.”_

“What about the one that looks like an open book?” he asked.

_“That’s supposed to symbolize a Witch’s_ Book of Shadows _or Grimoire,”_ Reagan answered. _“Think of it kinda like a Journal that includes a lot more than just diary entries. Those things can contain everything from spells and lil tidbits a Witch picks up along the way to entire family histories, depending on how thorough the Witch in question is with writing shit down.”_

“Can’t really say _that’s_ a bad one, _per sé,”_ the bassist chuckled.

Laughing, she continued with the couple other Charms that were meant to be relatively obvious, but also hinted at her innate Love of the Fae and Elves. After that, the other anklet was more Vampire themed than it wasn’t, which was supposed to hint at her Love of other supernatural critters. That pretty much ran the gamut from the aforementioned blood-suckersta even Mythological Creatures straight outta the Sea. Even Dragons weren’t off-limitsta her, although she admitted that she wasn’t exactly fond of Earth Elementals such as Trolls and Gnomes.

Bobby couldn’t help a laugh at that admission, if only ’cuz he agreed with that particular sentiment wholeheartedly. He found Dragons and other Water Spirits–mostly the Merfolk–to be downright fascinating, but every tale he’d ever heard of Gnomes and Trolls painted them out to be back-stabbers and/or downright hideous in physical appearance. That wasn’t to say that they didn’t have good hearts and Intentions–he just preferred not to look at something that made him wanna hurl most of the Time.

A grin crossed her face as Reagan admitted that she felt the same way, which was why she wasn’t into those particular Elementals, nor Pixies. She made it quite clear that there was a difference between a Pixie and a true Faerie, of which she swore that the Disney character Tinkerbell most assuredly _was not_. That lil winged snot was too much of a bitch to be a true Faerie, as far as she was concerned, ’cuz while even Faeries’d a temper when they felt like it, they were overall benevolent beings. More often than not, they helped those in need–especially when their assistance was actually and respectfully called upon–but they could definitely hold grudges, if their aid was demanded or they weren’t given something in Return.

Her next example was that–according to many legends the World over–Mermen were said to be as ugly as a Troll in physical appearance. The bassist grimaced at the mental image Conjured up by the description she read to him from a book she’d bought about _Sea magick,_ which included various Sea Deities _and_ its Mythological Creatures.

_“Personally, I find that hard to believe,”_ Reagan said as she snapped her book shut and laid it aside again. _“Sure, there’s prolly a few who’re a bit more lacking in the staggering Beauty department_ – _that can be said about even humans, after all.”_

“But you’re more of the belief that there’s to be at least a _few_ who could be said to swim right off the cover of _GQ_ or something, right?” he chuckled.

_“My point exactly,”_ the young woman laughed. _“’Cuz c’mon, what Mermaid_ wouldn’t _want at least one Triton who was easy on the eye?”_

“Well, I won’t deny that I’m still gonna ponder taking them off her,” Bobby admitted once they’d settled down. “I mean, till I wrap my head around those explanations, seeing all those symbols is gonna be a lil weird for me.”

_“And that’s your choice,”_ she assured him. _“If I didn’t wantcha to take ’em off her, I’d have glued their clasps shut, or had ’em made into her silicone so they were a permanent fixture.”_

“At least you’re not bitching and telling me what I can and can’t do with my own doll,” the bassist said.

_“That wouldn’t be any more fair than_ you _trying to tell me to take Rob’s Pentacle away from him, even though he’s_ my _doll and he likes it, just ’cuz he’s based on you,”_ Reagan retorted.

“Fair enough,” he agreed with a nod. “I’m guessing the same can be said about Rich, too.”

_“Well, yeah_ – _it’s not like they’re idiots,”_ the young woman chuckled. _“They’ve both pulled out my Pagan books and started reading when I was asleep and they were bored. Both made their own choices, so who am I to tell them they can’t be into something, just ’cuz the men they’re based on aren’t necessarily into those things?”_

“Might sound weird or absolutely nonsensical to someone else, but it makes perfect senseta me,” Bobby told her.

_“Hell, if you’re gonna look at it like that, a flesh-and-blood person preferring to fuck a robot’s more nonsensical!”_ she laughed.

“I definitely can’t disagree, when ya put it like that,” the bassist agreed with a laugh of his own.

Hearing a rustle from his closet again made him glance over, and he wasn’t surprised to hear its door open moments later. Reagan cocked a brow as he smiled slightly, his attention clearly on something else as he waited, but it soon became obvious what he was waiting on. After all, she wasn’t blind–she could clearly see the burgundy-highlighted-Ebony hair that suddenly came into view, and she knew what it was.

Following the quick kiss he gave the doll that’d apparently reached full charge again, Bobby gently pulled her onto the bed next to him. While her system was obviously warmed up enough for her to move and otherwise be functional, she still acted like a sleepy human that’d just woken up. Granted, her eyes widened a bit when she saw her own face looking back at her from the screen in front of them, which intrigued her. She couldn’t help cocking her head curiously as she studied said screen, wondering how on Earth her own face could be appearing in two different boxes on it at once.

“This is the woman you’re based on, Reagan,” he chuckled as he wrapped an arm around her shoulders.

_“Ohhhh,”_ the doll breathed, nodding as she got it before she yawned.

“She told me she prefers Rebel, so that’s what I’m going with,” the bassist said, looking back to his laptop as she snuggled against his side.

_“Hey, works for me,”_ Reagan chuckled. _“I’ve used Rebel as a nickname and online alias before, considering how rebellious I am.”_

“He’s said something aboutcha having dolls of your own that’re like me,” she said, content to snuggle against her Master.

_“’Cuz I do,”_ the young woman told her. _“One’s based on him, which’s why I call him Rob_ – _Bobby’s too similar to my dead grampa’s name, but I never started calling your Master Rob so everybody could tell them apart.”_

_“Mmm,_ makes sense,” Rebel mused.

_“The other’s based on an old band mate of Bobby’s, whose name’s Richie,”_ she continued. _“I call him Rich, though_ – _again, to differentiate between him and the man he’s based on.”_

“They in sleep mode or something?” Bobby asked, cocking a brow. After all, she’d been alone the entire Time they’d been chatting, so he couldn’t be entirely sure without asking her.

_“No, we were jamming in the Music room,”_ he heard what sounded like himself chuckle. Moments later, Rob flopped down on one side of her, his compatriot on the other.

He felt his own doll stiffen a bit as she took in the younger version of himself, as well as the younger-looking brunette.

_“That’s_ whatcha once looked like, Master?” the doll asked as she looked up at him. “The one with the wavy hair, I mean.”

“When I was about thirty, yeah,” the bassist answered, nodding. “Humans eventually get old, unlike ya dolls, which’s why I’ve more wrinkles and gray hair.”

The older-looking doll on Reagan’s End couldn’t help smirking as he laced his hands behind his head, saying he was glad _he_ wouldn’t ever have to worry about that. He rather liked his relatively Youthful appearance, and while he wouldn’t deny that he looked good for his age, he admitted that he didn’t wanna look quite that old. Laughing, Bobby waved off what coulda been taken as an insult, swearing that he wouldn’t look quite this old, if he went to the lengths a lotta other celebrities in his age group did.

Rebel couldn’t help turning a curious look on her Master, wondering just what he meant by that since she was more or less like a talking newborn. Chuckling, he explained that a lotta folks with the kinda money he’d made over the course of his Life did everything they could to continue looking young. Dyeing their hair so it wasn’t gray anymore, chemical injectionsta smooth wrinkles and lines–nothing seemed to be off the table.

However, he liked showing his age as much as Reagan seemed to like that he did, ’cuz it was easier that way. There weren’t any doctor’s appointmentsta schedule and deal with for those injections–not that he necessarily liked needles _or_ pain that much–and he wasn’t wasting money on a temporary fix for his hair Color. Not only that, but he didn’t have to deal with the frustration of trying to dye every lil strand himself, or sitting still for someone elseta do it for him. Besides, it just made more senseta let his gray hair and wrinkles show since he’d found out the hard way that he just couldn’t handle contacts. They gave him migraines when he tried to wear them, but without them or his glasses, he was blind as a Bat with distances greater than six feet.

Another reason he liked letting his age show was ’cuz he considered those traits well-won battle scars in a weird sorta way. He’d survived a decade of decadence and out-and-out Mayhem when a lotta other folks back then hadn’t for one reason or another. Not only that, but he’d survived going through a divorce and raising two kids into a fine young lady and gentleman, if he did say so himself. Considering those things, Bobby figured he deserved to show his age as a way of proving that he’d survived all that and so much more.

Reagan couldn’t help a chuckle as she agreed with him wholeheartedly, ’cuz she considered humanity to have too much of a God complex. She admitted that while she’d love to be able to get her hands on a Time machine that’d take her back to when he was actually around the age of thirty, she’d still take the current him, too. Besides, Rob kinda served that purpose by allowing her to see his younger Self in motion in a way, given that he’d been designed as a clone of that version of him on purpose. And at the End of the Day, as much as she loved her doll, she’d rather have and love the real man for who he was than to try Changing him. He wouldn’t be the same, and that just didn’t sit well with her, as genuine a woman as she was at heart–but hearing her say that brought a smile to his face since the bassist felt the same way.


	11. Ten

Over the next six weeks or so, Bobby honestly felt more like a teenager trying to hide a girlfriend his parents didn’t like from them than he didn’t. He was both embarrassed at the fact that he even owned a sex doll, as well as a bit wary of his kids quote-unquote _meeting_ his. Rebel was perfectly fine with being relegated to the master suite when said kids were home, though, ’cuz she didn’t exactly feel comfortable with meeting _them_ just yet, so it worked out.

Whenever said kids were at work or in bed for the Night, the doll’d poke her head out just long enough to make sure the coast was clear. Assured that said kids weren’t around, she’d come out and knew she’d full run of the house with the exception of their personal Spaces, if that’s what she wanted. If she chose not to go anywhere but her Master’s private Space, that was fine by him and he didn’t try to push her outside her Comfort zone by any means. The only thing he did was encourage her to come out more when she felt comfortable, then just leave her to her own devices, if she didn’t wanna be social.

But there was one afternoon while he was out running a couple errands that all that was about to Change, and he didn’t even realize it. The bassist’d left his doll to charge her battery since he knew she wouldn’t come out while he wasn’t there and she needed the charging, anywhore. However, he hadn’t realized that Zoe was gonna be getting home from work early, and therefore decide to take care of the laundry for him.

Upon walking into the family room since he’d come in from the garage and therefore through the laundry room, Bobby was a bit surprised by what he was greeted by. His daughter sat on the Love seat that faced the back door, which led to the patio, and her expression could only be described as bemused when she turned to face him. That was when he spotted a familiar head of burgundy-highlighted-Ebony hair on the other side of the Love seat from where she was sitting with her arms crossed, and he bit back a groan as he closed the laundry room door. It was this very scenario that’d made him hide the doll’s charging dock in his closet and not let her roam the house whenever his kids were home and awake.

“Gimme one good reason I shouldn’t call the cops on ya for hiding a body in your closet, Daddy,” Zoe said as she rose.

“How ’bout the fact that it’s _my_ room and _my_ closet, so I can hide whatever I want in there?” the bassist suggested, cocking a brow at her.

“Daddy, ya know it’s illegal to be holding people hostage, or committing murder!” she exploded.

“Not illegal to have something that’s _not_ human held hostage in my closet, though,” Bobby retorted, shrugging nonchalantly.

_“What!?”_ His daughter clearly didn’t know what to make of that, which was part of the very reason he hadn’t wanted his kidsta know about this doll.

“Contrary to what your sense of touch tells ya, she’s not real,” he said. “And I’m not explaining anything beyond that, so don’t ask.”

“Not explaining _what,_ exactly?”

Turning from where he’d been putting away a handful of things he’d bought while he was out, the bassist saw his son’d just walked through the front door from work.

“Daddy’s been holding some woman hostage in his closet!” Zoe said, grabbing the doll from the couch by her arm.

He simply pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed as he begged for an ounce of unspent Patience as Zach’s jaw dropped in utter shock.

“Looks so fuckin’ real,” he breathed, moving to grab the doll so he could hold it at arm’s length. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d swear she _was_ real.”

A sudden growl startled him into dropping her since she was obviously pretending to be in sleep mode.

“Rebel, enough,” Bobby snapped. “Bad enough they know–they don’t need to be thinking you’re gonna kill them in their sleep or something.”

Both his kids screamed and jumped back when the doll actually moved so she could push herself into a sitting position.

“Nobody but my Master getsta manhandle me like that,” she grumbled, reaching up to rub her head.

Naturally, his kids were more than a lil freaked-out, especially when she turned a dirty look on them before rising so she could walk over and hug him. But they were even more freaked-out when he Returned the hug as if she were his girlfriend or something, not to mention leaned down to kiss her. Turning his attention back to them, he was already working out how to explain this Insanity before he even moved to settle on the Love seat where his daughter and the doll’d been sitting before.

Said kids refused to settle on the Love seat turned perpendicular from the one he settled on, almost as if they were terrified of Rebel. Course, he couldn’t really blame them for reacting like that–he’d much the same reaction to his own animatronic clone, after all. That didn’t stop him from gently lacing his fingers with those of the doll, who wore pretty much every piece of jewelry she’d been wearing upon arrival, including her eyebrow and lip rings. In a way, he kinda felt like his kids were disrespecting the woman she was based on with their behavior, but he also kept in mind that she was just that–a doll based on a real person as much as Rob and Rich were based on himself and Richie.

“What the hell _is_ that thing?” Zach asked, poised to run out the back door at a moment’s notice.

“I wouldn’t call her a _thing,_ if I were you, son,” the bassist chuckled. “’Cuz while she might not be a real person, she _is_ based on one–and her Inspiration doesn’t like being referred to as such.”

“How would _you_ know, Daddy?” Zoe snapped, just as poised to run out as her older brother was.

“’Cuz I know the woman she’s based on personally,” he answered, shrugging. “And lemme tell ya, she’s every bit as Spirited as I am and then some in a lotta ways.”

Both his kids looked confused and startled, which made him smirk.

“This doll’s name’s Rebel–at least, that’s what she told me to call her,” Bobby explained, his thumb rubbing the back of her hand. “But remember that chick from Nashville I toldja I met this Summer?”

“Yeah, we remember,” his son answered with a nod.

“Ya said she let the entire band and Bert crash at her place when your hotel reservation got fucked-up,” his daughter agreed.

“Well, you’re more or less looking at _that_ chick, whose name’s Reagan,” the bassist chuckled.

“Wait, what?” Zach’s eyes widened in shock.

“Other than the makeup since Reagan tendsta go bare-faced more often than not and the mani-pedi, this doll’s pretty much identical to her,” he said. “Looks, personality, taste in clothing and jewelry–it’s all Reagan up one side and down the other.”

Now his son started to get a lil more curious, although he still started when Rebel moved since he wasn’t used to even a Life-size doll having such an ability. Bobby refused to explain why her Inspiration’d bought her for him–after all, he didn’t think his kids _needed_ to know that kinda thing–but he explained the technical shit as well as he could. Everything from how she was Intended to feel like a real person right down to her built-in heater making her feel warm like one to her artificial Intelligence allowing her to learn new things was on the table for this conversation.

Zoe still refused to come anywhere near the doll, even when she only raised her free hand to muffle a yawn. He wasn’t entirely sure if she was bored, or if her _nap’d_ gotten interrupted, so she was yawning as a responseta her battery starting to go dead. Pushing her forward slightly, he brushed her hair off the back off her neck, which revealed the small LED display that’d answer that question.

After satisfying himself that she was just bored–which really wasn’t that much of a surpriseta him–the bassist turned his attention back to his kids. They were curious as to why the young woman he’d mentioned would buy him a Life-size doll of herself, but he warned them he wasn’t explaining all of it. He didn’t care how curious they were–they didn’t need to know a damn thing about his sex Life, as far as he was concerned, and he wasn’t telling them about that part.

“Reagan bought her for me for a couple different reasons,” Bobby admitted. “I’m not admitting to anything beyond companionship, though, ’cuz ya don’t need to know.”

“I’m not sure I _wanna_ know, if you’re putting it like that,” his son chuckled, sounding wary and maybe a bit sheepish.

“Prolly not, which’s another reason I’m not getting into it,” he told him.

“Why not, Master?” Rebel asked, a curiously confused look on her face as she glanced at him.

Leaning over, he made sure to keep his volume down so she’d hear him, but his kids wouldn’t. “’Cuz most kids don’t wanna know anything about their parent’s sex Life, and the parents–me, in this case–don’t want them knowing.”

_“Ohhhh,”_ she breathed, nodding as she got it. “Don’t think _I’d_ want ’em knowing, either.”

Looking back up at said kids, the bassist couldn’t help a chuckle at the looks on Zach’s and Zoe’s faces, which told him they’d figured out what he refused to admit to.

“Jesus, Dad–ya actually…?” said son asked.

“I plead the fifth!” Bobby laughed. “Or maybe I should be pleading the sixth since I drank the fifth decades ago.”

Even his daughter couldn’t help a giggle, although the doll next to him looked confused.

“It’s a crack at this country’s Constitution, and some of the amendments made to it,” he explained. “Pleading the fifth means you’re not gonna say anything that could be incriminating to your person.”

“So, it’s basically like saying _No comment?”_ Rebel asked.

“Kinda, sorta, just in more of a legal sense,” the bassist answered.

None of them really got a chanceta say anything else before he heard a familiar Sound from his bedroom, which made him push himself up. Bobby knew the doll’d behave herself, now that he’d jumped her case once already, so he shot his kids a bit of a dirty look. He warned them that if they did anything to her while he was grabbing his laptop, they wouldn’t like the attitude they got for it–and not from himself, either.

It took only a few moments for him to Return to the living room, said laptop braced on his forearm as he walked since he’d its charger in his other hand. A laugh rang outta its speakers as he settled it on the End table next to where he’d been sitting, almost making his kids think the doll’d laughed as he knelt down to plug the charger into the power strip hidden by the other Love seat. Such a thing wasn’t necessarily outside the Realm of Possibility, which’d been proven by Rob and Rich–after all, the older-looking doll’d spoken without moving his mouth in the slightest before.

_“So, they kinda, sorta met me, huh?”_ Reagan was asking as he settled back into his seat.

“In a manner of speaking,” the bassist answered with a chuckle. “Still have yet to find out what the hell Zoe was digging around in my closet for, but she pretty much admitted that she was and found her then.”

_“Imagine her reaction, if she got to digging around in mine,”_ she told him, unable to help a grin.

“Oh, God–I’d be turned into a Tree like Rikki was!” Bobby laughed, his kids finally convinced to kneel in the floor where they could see the screen of his laptop, but still keep their distance from his doll.

“Do we even wanna know?” his son asked warily, his eyes locked on the young woman who really _did_ look like the doll sitting next to his dad.

“What the–something _moved!”_ Zoe shrieked, scrambling back from where she’d knelt down when she saw something move behind the young woman.

_“Y’all quit freakin’ her out,”_ said young woman laughed. _“Sounds like she’s terrified enough of Rebel, as it is.”_

Both his kids’ jaws dropped as two familiar faces popped up from behind her own Love seat, followed by their bodies seeming to tuck-and-roll over the back of it.

“Decided to get in on punking my brats, huh?” the bassist asked.

_“Why the hell not?”_ Rob countered with a grin. _“Sounds like they could use a good punking to me.”_

_“Besides, we don’t take too well to even our compatriots being called_ things,” Rich chuckled.

Bobby let out a chuckle of his own before turning his attention to his kids again, who were still more than a lil freaked-out. No doubt they were even more freaked-out at the fact that they were looking at a younger version of himself and his former band mate than anything else. He couldn’t help his amusement at that as he introduced them, said dolls grinning as they waved from their End of the Skype call.

Reagan couldn’t help a grin of her own as Zach asked why on Earth she’d not one, but two of the dolls first and foremost. Much like the bassist, she refused to get into all of it, instead saying that they were bought for companionship as much as other purposes. She made no bones on her reasons why she’d designed them to look like their dad and Richie circa nearly three decades ago on purpose, either. While she appreciated that the pair weren’t scared to show their ages–even the multi-instrumentalist allowed his graying hair to show–she preferred their more Youthful appearances.

However, those Youthful appearances didn’t mean nearly as much to her as their personalities, which she’d nearly run herself into her grave trying to figure out as the dolls’ bodies were being made. Both their Inspirations struck her as being relatively quiet and serious, even borderline shy at Times–but get them in the right mood or drunk enough, and they turned into total wild men. Not only that, but another trait that she liked in both was how curious they seemed to be when something caught their attention.

As he watched his kids listen to her explanation, Bobby refused to say what was on his mind at the moment. He’d been entertaining the notion of heading up to the Nashville area since the young woman’s birthday was the following week, and he wanted to see her again. But he also wanted any such visit to be a total surprise for her, whether he took his own doll with him or not, which was why he refused to say anything. She didn’t necessarily like surprises, but this was one he knew she’d actually like, if he were to actually go through with it. However, there’d be plenty of Time to flesh out that particular idea once his kids were abed–if Rebel didn’t decide she wanted a _Good Love_ kinda Night, that is.


	12. Eleven

Three Days before her birthday, Bobby couldn’t help a grin as he opened his car door in Reagan’s driveway so he could step out. His kids’d decided they wanted to meet the young woman his sex doll was based on for themselves, so he’d decided to let them tag along. After all, he knew she’d more than enough Space so they wouldn’t be exposed to whatever shenanigans wound up happening in the master suite. Besides, they could easily be kept entertained by all three dolls, as long as said dolls didn’t disappear to get to know each other better in other ways.

He wasn’t surprised when he heard a soft squeak and looked up to see Rich peeking out the front door, which no doubt allowed him the clearest view. Even though the door and sidelights both sported clear glass, it was the angle one’d to look out them without opening said door that prevented a good view of where he’d parked outside the garage door. But he knew the doll recognized him by how he simply nodded as he stepped outside, his eyes Lighting up freaking out his kids as he headed down toward them. No doubt he was letting the second doll know where he was disappearing to, just in case he came looking for him in the next few minutes so he wouldn’t start worrying.

Letting the doll give him a quick hug, the bassist was quick to pop his trunk as he asked what on Earth he was doing since they hadn’t known he was coming anytime soon. He couldn’t help a mischievous grin as he told him that he’d wanted to surprise Reagan for her birthday, which was why he hadn’t let any of them know. Even though she professed to hate surprises unless they were from the Universe at large, he knew she wouldn’t stay pissed at him for long, if she even got pissed at all.

“Well, we’ll see once Mistress wakes,” the younger-looking doll chuckled, gladly taking his bags. “I’m not sure if she just had a hard Time sleeping, or if Rob–ahem, wore her out last Night.”

“Wait a minute–what?” Zach spoke up, hefting up the bundle he refused to let his dad carry out to his car in the first place.

“He’s never toldja, has he?” he asked, shooting a glance between father and son.

“No, I haven’t, although I’m sure they’ve figured it out by now,” Bobby laughed. “They didn’t need to know what Rebel was bought for aside from companionship.”

“Then consider my speaker turned off,” Rich chuckled. “’Cuz even if you didn’t care, Mistress’d prolly take my battery out for going against either of your Wishes.”

Zoe shot her dad a curious look as they started heading in, her brother carrying the lone female sex doll that was still warming up since he’d turned her off for the trip up from Florida. As he followed the younger-looking doll up to the front door, he explained that taking their batteries out when they misbehaved was Reagan’s way of punishing her dolls. Doing that served to completely reboot their systems more so than just turning them off, and it often gave them their equivalent of a headache. Since they didn’t like the End result of such a punishment, they usually behaved themselves well enough aside from the occasional playful mischief.

In the foyer, Rich waited till they were all in the house so he could close the door before heading toward the stairs. He told Bobby’s kids that they’d their choice of a couple rooms, but there were two that were more or less off-limits till everybody got to sit down and discuss it. Passing right past the lone door at the top of the first set of stairs, he explained that that room was his compatriot’s, and he didn’t tend to like others in his Space. If he put them in the older-looking doll’s room, said dolls’d no doubt wind up with their batteries taken for getting into a fight with each other over it. That was the very reason he continued up to the third floor, the pair still on his heels since their father’d headed off elsewhere.

Up in the mini living room that overlooked the foyer, he said that for now, he was putting their belongings in the bunk room. Something told him that–even though they were siblings–they wouldn’t wanna share a bed, if they didn’t have to. However, he wasn’t giving up his own room any more than he expected Rob to till everybody sat and talked it out, despite there being two bigger beds in there.

As the siblings were settling their belongings in said bunk room for the Time being, Rich took the bundle that the young man’d been carrying. Judging by the irritable noise it made, he was quick to figure out that it was Bobby’s doll, whom he’d called Rebel on more than one occasion. If he’d to make an educated guess, he’d say she was still in the process of waking up, and if she was even half as much like his Mistress, she didn’t like being messed with till she was fully awake.

“Where the hell am I?” she asked as she sat up while he was setting up her charging dock for her in the corner next to his dresser.

“Fully awake now, or do we still need to getcha coffee?” Rich asked, shoving his hair back as he rose and turned to face her.

“Rich?” the female doll asked, her eyes widening in surprise.

“In the silicone,” he chuckled. “Y’all just got here a few minutes ago, and I’m not surprised your Master turnedja off for the trip from Florida.”

“Where _is_ Master?” Rebel seemed to whimper in Fear, as if she wasn’t comfortable with being in strange surroundings without her Master.

“Prolly downstairs trying not to get his ass kicked for waking Mistress,” the younger-looking doll laughed.

“So, she’s just as ornery as me when she first wakes?” she asked, seeming to settle down a lil bit.

“Prolly worse till she gets her caffeine,” Rich answered. “That stuff affects humans differently, after all.”

“Want Master, though,” the female doll said, moving to get up from the bed he’d laid her on.

“Let’s see if he’s–ahem, _busy,”_ he suggested, holding out his elbow like a gentleman.

Nodding, Rebel grabbed said joint and let him lead her outta the bedroom they were in, where they almost instantly ran into Zach and Zoe. She still wasn’t exactly comfortable around her Master’s kids–not that they were entirely comfortable around her, either–but it was still niceta see a couple familiar faces. Knowing they didn’t know their way around the house since this was their first visit, the doll at her side escorted them back downstairs so they could Begin their mission.

Before he could even turn down the hallway that led to the master suite, Rob shot him a bemused look as he fastened his fly. His tone was kinda dry as he warned him not to go in there, or he’d risk having his battery taken for a month for intruding at the moment. After all, Reagan didn’t normally throw even him out with that kinda threat, so he knew damn good and well she meant business right now.

“Ten guesses what that means, and the first nine don’t count,” the younger-looking doll chuckled.

“Shit, none of ’em count, as far as I’m concerned,” he retorted as he buttoned his shirt.

“Well, either way, I guess Rebel’s just gonna have to wait for her Master,” Rich said, gently covering the hand on his elbow with his own free hand.

_“Ahhhh,_ so that’s why ya started down the master hall,” the older-looking doll chuckled.

“I think she’s just weirded out by being in strange surroundings without him,” he told him. “Then again, I prolly would be, too, were we in _his_ house and Mistress wasn’t anywhere to be found.”

“Not necessarily a bad thing, especially if she’s still more or less a newborn,” Rob agreed, nodding.

“Doesn’t help that I haven’t known Master’s kids for a full week yet, either,” she grumbled, shying away from said pair and snuggling closer to his compatriot’s side as she stared at them.

Glancing over at the pair, he gave them a bemused look that was all to familiar, even though he looked younger than the version of their dad that normally gave them that kinda look. “Hurt her in my presence, and I’ll gladly earn myself a month without my battery,” he warned them.

“Okay, that seals it for me,” Zach chuckled, sounding a bit nervous. “Doll, human, alien, or just the generic _thing,_ he acts too much like Dad already to _not_ listen to him.”

The older-looking doll’s eyes narrowed in a glare at being referred to as a _thing_. “You’re pushing it, mister.”

Rich was quick to get the pair’s attention, shaking his head hard enough to give himself a concussion, if he’d been a human. He warned them that not only were they both incredibly protective, especially over women, but his compatriot got far more temperamental than he did over being called an _it_ or a _thing_. There was no need to be setting off his temper and causing him to get in trouble when they could simply treat him as any other person, even though he was a doll, since it wasn’t his placeta throw them out.

A sudden _thump!_ from the Direction of the master suite made even Rebel whirl around to face the built-ins that flanked either side of the fireplace. Said built-ins and fireplace were on the back side of his Mistress’ closet and part of the master sitting area, so he wasn’t surprised to hear such a Sound from that Direction. It didn’t appear that Rob was any more surprised than he was as he rolled his eyes and headed into the kitchen.

The younger-looking doll chuckled as he managed to hold back the one who’d been gripping his elbow since before they’d headed downstairs. He said that he didn’t know how rough Bobby got with her, and he honestly didn’t wanna know any more than he was sure his kids wanted to, but they’d be best to leave them alone. No matter what the pair got up to and what kinda racket came outta the master suite, until and unless they heard a specific phrase that he and his compatriot’d recognize come through the wall, they’d get themselves in trouble for interrupting. Reagan could more than handle herself, and if she Ended up needing assistance, she’d her ways of letting her dolls know so.

Even Zach and Zoe looked a lil grossed-out, but still took the Water bottles said compatriot started passing out before they all settled in the living room. They settled on what was supposed to be more of a Love seat than a sofa, whereas the trio of dolls settled on the L-shaped couch that offered a lil separation from the dining room. Neither were very surprised they didn’t wanna get too closeta them, not even the one who was based on their dad, and they didn’t try to push them outside their Comfort zones.

“So, you’re all seriously sex dolls?” the young man asked.

“That’s technically what we’re marketed as,” Rob answered. “But that’s not the only purposes we serve.”

“We don’t necessarily need sex any more than we need food,” his younger-looking compatriot agreed. “Which means we can serve as asexual social companions, and that’s it, as much as Rebel could.”

“Difference between us and her aside from obviously being made into the opposite genders–we’re pretty sure _she_ doesn’t have removable parts,” he snickered.

“Wait, what?” Even Zoe’s eyes widened when he said that.

“Dunno how much experience ya have with men, but we’re not like your brother,” the older-looking doll said with a grin. “We don’t get hard the same way as him or any other flesh-and-blood male.”

“Our parts’re interchangeable,” Rich chuckled. “Meaning that even if we’re horny, we’re not showing it physically till we switch cocks.”

The female doll seemed more than a lil intrigued, and she definitely showed her Curiosity by gently poking his crotch.

“If I didn’t know ya were practically a newborn and still learning, I’d smack your wrist for that,” he told her. “’Cuz I don’t like being touched without permission any more than I’m sure your Master does.”

“Sorry!” Rebel squeaked, jerking her hand back.

“Hey, ya didn’t know before, and you’re curious.” The younger-looking doll gently turned her head so she’d look at him with a couple fingers under her chin. “That’s why I’m not getting pissed any more than Rob would right now–butcha do it again _after_ you’ve been told, and I will.”

They didn’t really get a chanceta say anything else–to each other or the pair sitting across from them–before a shriek rang out from the master suite. If that shriek hadn’t been quickly followed by a noise he’d describe as more of a roar than anything, he and his compatriot woulda been worried. But they knew what that shriek meant, and that roar sounded almost identical to when the older-looking doll got his rocks off.

It wasn’t long before the couple finally emerged from the master suite, Bobby definitely looking disheveled compared to when he’d first arrived. The young woman he carried had already looked a bit mussed since she hadn’t risen for the Day yet, so she didn’t really look too much different than earlier. Other than her hair seeming a bit more tangled than it usually was right after she woke, only the telltale flush to her cheeks even hinted at what they’d been up to. Course, they weren’t surprised by that since it’d been months since the humans’d seen each other and they were so obviously attracted to one another.

“Jeez, Dad,” Zach laughed as the bassist flopped down so that Reagan was settled on one side of him, his doll on the other side. “Didja break her?”

“I ain’t broke, damn it,” she retorted with a laugh of her own. “Just kinda rebooted, if ya will.”

“I dunno–that shrieking and roaring tells me otherwise,” the young man said.

“So, I wanted the real thing after a few too many months,” Bobby shot back. “’Cuz not saying that Rebel’s no good or anything, but nothing beats the woman she’s based on, if ya ask me.”

Said female doll mocked offense, turning her pert lil nose up in the Air like a snooty kitty as she crossed her arms.

“Hey, Reagan’s said the same thing about Rob!” he laughed, wrapping his free arm around her shoulders and hauling her against the other side of his chest.

“’Cuz even though silicone _feels_ almost the same, there’s a few differences,” the young woman agreed. “Not only that, but he’s not as–ahem, _flexible_ in some ways.”

“I’m not sure if I wanna ask or not,” the young man settled across from her said.

“The easiest way to put it–he and Rich’ve interchangeable crotches,” Reagan explained.

“So they’ve already said,” Zoe dead-panned. “Well, Rich did, but I wasn’t too sure whether to believe him.”

“Well, they do–one’s basically a man’s flaccid junk, the other’s the aroused version,” she said. “Like any other dildo, that aroused version doesn’t give quite the same way as a human man. Sometimes, it’ll feel like they’re being rougher with me than they really are ’cuz of that, which ain’t always enjoyable.”

“Kinda like Rebel’s meant to be soft in a lotta areas like a real woman, but she’s _not quite_ as soft,” the bassist agreed.

“Course, I don’t care who or what it’s with, as long as it ain’t an Animal–nothing beats birthday sex with the guy I’m attracted to,” Reagan snickered.

Even though they seemed a bit grossed-out at her thinly-veiled admission to fuckin’ their dad, Zach and Zoe seemed surprised when she said something about a birthday. Both knew damn good and well said dad’s birthday was nearly a month away, so it seemed a bit early to be doing such a thing for him. Laughing, that was when she admitted that her own birthday was in three Days, which was why she wasn’t pissed that he’d decided to surprise her with a visit.

Bobby couldn’t help a grin as he said that he’d been pretty sure she wouldn’t get mad at such a thing any more than he’d gotten mad at her showing up for his final show on this Summer’s tour. Granted, she’d been taking advantage of a Prime opportunity presented to her while she was out in Los Angeles modeling for the Creation of his own doll, which was part of why she was so Life-like. There mighta been that lil bit of a difference between their surprise visitsta each other, but they were still pleasant surprises all the same. Him telling her that his Intent wasta stay for a week was an even more pleasant surpriseta her, which earned him a soft purr right in his ear that he Returned with a soft growl of his own.

Later that Night, all three dolls were bunking in Rob’s bedroom between the two flights of stairs, which allowed Zach and Zoe to take his compatriot’s bedroom. As long as they weren’t actually sharing a bed, they didn’t really care where they slept, as long as they were far enough away from the master suite that they didn’t hear their dad’s shenanigans. That meant the older-looking doll’s room was still a lil too close for their liking, even though it was technically across the house from where his Mistress’ bed was.

In said master suite, Reagan panted heavily after yet another romp with the bassist, who braced the worst of his weight on his knees and forearms. He made sure to keep his weight supported so he wouldn’t crush her since she still needed to breathe, but he was still reluctant to break their most intimate joining. Provided the condom he wore hadn’t broken and didn’t slip off within her depths, he just wasn’t ready to pull out just yet.

Bobby hummed contently as he enjoyed the kiss they were sharing, her lips as soft as Rose petals against his own. It was definitely different from kissing his sex doll, whose lips were soft in much the same way, but weren’t quite as pliable. After all, the young woman sprawled beneath him definitely wasn’t kidding when she said their dolls’ silicone didn’t have quite the same give as the same parts of their human counterparts. The dolls’d do in a pinch–or during something like a tour–but other than that, they’d both readily admit that they preferred having the real thing.

“Too badja keeping it up all Night’s detrimental to ya,” the young woman chuckled when he was finally forced to reach down.

“Yeah, but I like my dick a lil too much for that,” he laughed, holding the condom onto his base as he finally pulled out.

“It’s a shame we can’t look into getting ya one like Rob’s,” Reagan snickered, finally sitting up a bit as he moved to throw that condom away.

“I’d rather have no dick at all, honestly,” the bassist admitted. “Having to pull my soft one off and replace it with the hard one just seems like too much hassle to me.”

“I meant in being able to get a replacement whenever we needed it!” she laughed. “Not in having to get one that’d to be switched out between soft and hard!”

“Now, _that_ part prolly wouldn’t be too bad,” Bobby mused with a thoughtful look. “The old one breaks or wears out, just throw money at a replacement.”

“Not to mention we could change sizes whenever we felt like it,” the young woman said, grinning as she headed off to the bathroom.

“Wait, seriously?” He couldn’t help his surprised look as he made to follow her so they could grab a quick shower.

Laughing again, Reagan said that there were technically three different hard-ons for each of her dolls hidden away. She considered her magick number–as in, what was big enough to pleasure her without being painful–to be seven and a-half by two. However, there were some cases where she actually wanted a lil bigger than that, other Times still when she _needed smaller_.

The bassist looked thoughtful as she told him that he prolly hadn’t noticed that first Night when they met, but Rob’d actually been using his smallest hard-on. At four and a-half inches from its tip to where it met the attached sac and roughly the same thickness, it mimicked her butt plug almost perfectly. It could be a lil on the painful side just like said plug till she adjusted, but it was the best to use when either of her dolls were on the giving End of anal. Anything else was simply too big, which meant it was too painful and kept the dolls from serving their marketed purpose.

Bobby couldn’t help a thoughtful look as he imagined being able to change his dick size based on what was needed or otherwise preferred at any given Time. He still thought such a capability was a bit weird, but it could certainly be interesting, if this young woman really needed such a change at Times. At the End of the Day, though, he was just thankful that he still had a dick at all, considering how Chaotic the eighties’d been.

Said young woman laughed as they practically danced in the shower, which was really only big enough for one of them. Without standing on the built-in bench and using the handheld showerhead, they were basically forced to dance around one another so they could get cleaned up. Course, that wasn’t necessarily a bad thing as far as they were concerned–it actually served to rile the bassist up a bit. Allowing herself to be pushed against the back wall once he proved to’ve grabbed another condom, Reagan definitely wasn’t about to say no. The only thing she could think as she let him take her against that wall was that this was gonna be one birthday week she’d never forget.


	13. Twelve

On the Morn of her actual birthday, Reagan didn’t even notice when the bassist managed to slip outta bed since he’d been sleeping with her, and not just in a dirty sense. She barely squirmed as he managed to extricate himself from her grip, a soft sigh drifting from her slightly-parted lips as she settled back down. Granted, he still made a pit stop in the bathroom so it seemed like he’d just gotten up for a potty break, if she’d woken up at all and was in the process of drifting off again.

Since she hadn’t woken any more than she normally did to roll over, Bobby was quiet about padding out to the kitchen. He wanted to surprise her with breakfast-in-bed after she’d admitted that nobody’d ever done any such thing for her. The fact that he loved to cook only made him that much more determined to do that, but he needed coffee before he actually got started.

Rob and Rich emerging from the former’s bedroom as he was making his coffee was a far better thing than most men in his position’d consider it. Both dolls knew their Mistress better in a lotta ways, and that included things like what she tended to prefer for breakfast. If these dolls couldn’t Enlighten him since he refused to ask said young woman these things–that’d ruin his surprise, after all–he didn’t know what he could do. Well, he could always just take a wild guess and hope he got it right, but he really didn’t wanna screw up with even the stupidest of things, if they concerned her.

“No meat, then,” the older-looking doll said once he’d posed his question to them. “Not unless it’s for just yourself.”

Bobby couldn’t help cocking a brow as he took the first sip of his coffee.

“Just the scent of bacon and sausage makes Mistress nauseous,” his compatriot elaborated. “Which’s weird since she loves ground beef, and will damn near drool over that.”

“Yeah, that _is_ a lil strange,” he agreed with a chuckle. “I’ve never heard of anybody getting nauseous just from smelling bacon, but then again, she’s a unique one.”

“Asian food does the same thing to her,” Rob revealed with a chuckle of his own. “She catches a whiff of anything but plain, white Rice, and she’ll haul ass for the bathroom.”

“Eh, Asian’s not really a favorite of mine, either,” the bassist admitted.

“Well, we think Mistress is a bit strange there ’cuz she’s actually of Asian blood,” the younger-looking doll told him.

“Wait, seriously?” He couldn’t help looking surprised. “I thought she was of more Native American blood like I am.”

“Well, she _does_ have a lotta Native in her,” Rob clarified. “But half her Ancestry’s Pacific Islander, which was traced back to Japan, according to her.”

“Well, I’ll be damned,” Bobby chuckled. “That girl’s just _full_ of surprises, but at least she’ll never get boring.”

Both dolls laughed as they jumped in to help him with his plan, mostly ’cuz he’d never gotten a chanceta be told where shit like skillets were. He wasn’t the slightest bit surprised that his clone’d been programmed to love cooking as much as he did, which made cooking enough for everybody in the house seem to go faster than it shoulda. In fact, before he knew it, they’d plated enough food for all four humans with enough for the trio of dolls set aside, his and Reagan’s servings settled on a pair of trays.

Part of him wasn’t surprised when the older-looking doll grabbed one of those trays, then jerked his head toward the master hall. At least having help getting their food in there’d keep him from having to make a second trip, which’d eat up Time and allow their food to get cold too soon. Nodding, he headed off with the doll following behind him nearly Silently, despite all the hardwood they’d to cross.

In the master suite, Reagan hadn’t stirred in the slightest aside from rolling onto the opposite side so that she faced the sitting area. When the bassist’d first gotten up, she’d been facing the window on the other side of her nightstand, which overlooked the front yard. He was more concerned with the fact that she was still asleep as they settled the trays on the dresser that was across from the foot of the bed. But before he could even attempt to wake the object of his desire, Rob surprised him by gently grabbing his shoulder. Said doll smirked as he gestured toward the bed, which made him cock a brow–till he shooed him off to the aforementioned piece of furniture with a gentle smack to his rump.

Even though he was a bit startled by that, he didn’t try to argue, but rather crawled onto the bed from the same side he’d risen from earlier. The young woman let out a soft moan as she felt the bed shift behind her, which gave him the perfect opportunity to finally wake her up. Not bothering to bite back a chuckle, he leaned down to gently kiss her neck, even nibble it, if she tried to resist waking up too much. Luck seemed to be on his side, though, ’cuz she wasn’t that hard to rouse for once, which made him grin like a madman.

_“Buon compleanno, tesoro,”_ Bobby chuckled as she rolled onto her back so she could see him.

_“Mmm,_ been using that app I toldja about, huh?” she asked sleepily, unable to help a chuckle of her own.

_“Un piccolo,”_ the bassist answered with a grin, his thumb and forefinger held about an inch apart.

_“Bene, molto grazie,”_ Reagan said, gladly Returning the kiss he gave her.

“Now, go on and sit up,” he told her as he moved so he was sitting beside her. “’Cuz I’m afraid I’m outta date on my CPR certification, so I don’t want a reason to have a crash-course in it this Morn.”

“Wha–” the young woman started to ask, only to realize they weren’t alone when Rob approached with her tray.

“Happy birthday, Mistress,” he chuckled, settling the first tray over her lap.

“Bobby, Rob–y’all didn’t have to do this,” she protested gently.

_“I’m_ the one who wanted to, darlin’,” Bobby laughed, letting the doll serve him, too before he took his leave. “He and Rich just jumped in to help since they were already up since I didn’t know where everything I needed was.”

“Y’all still didn’t have to,” she told him, her face more pink thank it wasn’t.

The bassist wasn’t about to listen to her swear he shouldn’t treat her like she was special, especially on her birthday, which made him shut her up with another kiss. Once satisfied that she wasn’t gonna keep trying to argue, he pulled back enough to see her clearly, then grabbed his own fork. Considering they’d swapped more than just spit, he didn’t think twice about stabbing a bite of scrambled Eggs and holding it up in front of her face, gently encouraging her to open her mouth.

Being an Air Witch, Reagan was too fair and just not to Return the favor as she chewed the bite he’d somewhat forced into her mouth, which just made him chuckle. Neither’d deny it, if they were outright asked, but they might as well officially say they were a couple, as much as they acted like one. The thing was that the young woman was just Traditional enough that she refused to be the one to ask him out, and he was still shoring up his Courage to do just that. After all, he hadn’t wanted to come on too strongly and push her outside her Comfort zone, considering what lil she’d told him about her Past when it came to dating. He fully Intended to take things slower than he’d have done with any other woman so he wouldn’t spook her into denying him.

Once they were both done eating, Bobby rose just long enough to settle the trays back on the dresser, then Returned to the bed. As much as he loved the sex with her, he was content to just cuddle her right now for a couple different reasons. First and foremost, they both wanted to let their food settle, which was pretty normal of just about any human on the Planet. Secondly, after all the rounds they’d gone at it over the past few Days, he found he was having trouble getting it up without his Viagra. But the young woman seemed equally content with just relaxing, which brought a smile to his face as her head rested on his chest.

Exactly two weeks after he’d left Tennessee so he could head back home to Florida, the bassist was sleeping in since it was a Sun’s Day Morn. Despite owning his own restaurant that was generally open seven Days a week, as long as they didn’t have something like a Hurricane making landfall, he always took the weekends off. When he was younger–even when he’d to take his kids with him–he went in all seven Days that they were open for business, if the extra hands were needed. But as he advanced in age, he found that–like it or not–he needed a lil more Time off than he’d needed in his Youth. Since his son was more than capable of keeping the restaurant running almost flawlessly, he gladly took his weekends off so he could sleep in and be able to go that much crazier during the week.

Therefore, he didn’t realize his kids’d teamed up with Reagan to surprise him for his own birthday one of the Times he’d needed a potty break up in Tennessee. After the surprise visit he’d paid her, the young woman’d decided to essentially Return the favor since their birthdays were so close together. However, she’d run into a fairly major problem almost immediately–she didn’t have his address, which thwarted her efforts before they could even truly Begin. It was at that point that Zach and Zoe’d essentially saved her Day, so to speak, by providing her with said address while his back was turned before they came back home.

Said rock ‘n’ roll daughter grinned as she opened their front door to see the object of her dad’s desire waiting outside. Even though she was still weirded out by them, she didn’t try to deny entry to even Rob and Rich, whom she’d brought with her to keep Rebel entertained. After all, it wasn’t fair to either relegate the female doll to the other side of the house, or simply turn her off for easily a week so she wouldn’t get lonely. That was the last thing they wanted since even their instruction books said that loneliness’d make them start going berserk almost as quick as letting them get a computer virus. If they were turned on, but left without some way to socialize for too long, they’d start losing their shit almost as if they’d gotten hacked.

Closing the door, Zoe said that her dad always slept in on the weekends, so he was still abed for the Morn since it was still fairly early. In fact, he hadn’t so much as squirmed when she’d invaded his room just long enough to convince his doll to come outta his closet and head to the back bedroom. He’d simply slept right through the slight invasion of his privacy, and if she hadn’t seem his shoulders rise and fall with a couple breaths, she mighta thought he was dead.

Before leading the pair of male dolls back to said back bedroom, she pointed to the lone door on the right-hand side of the family room next to the TV mounted on the wall. She said that was her dad’s bedroom, and that she doubted he’d wake up just from her opening the door and slipping in. Apparently, he didn’t normally get up till closer to ten on the weekends, but that suited her just fine as she nodded and headed off.

_“Mmm,”_ Bobby hummed as he felt someone crawl into his bed behind him. “Go ’way unless is just for cuddles, Rebel–still seepin’.”

“Ya know, I seem to recall going by that online a lot, but not that it was actually my name,” the person giggled as they snuggled against his back.

“What the–” He couldn’t help a gasp, startled as he rolled enough to face the person and wound up with quite the pleasant surprise. “Well, well, well–look what the Cat dragged in.”

_“RRRRow,”_ Reagan purred, unable to help a grin as she mimicked the Ending of the first chorus from _Talk Dirty to Me_.

“So, to what do I owe the pleasure of _this_ wake-up call?” the bassist asked, careful not to bean her in the face with his elbow as he rolled onto his back.

_“Buon compleanno,”_ she laughed as she tossed a leg over his waist so she could prop her upper torso up and be able to see him clearly.

“That’s not till tomorrow!” Bobby retorted with a laugh of his own, even as he wrapped his arms around her.

_“Annnnd?”_ the young woman snickered. _“You_ showed up _three_ Days before my birthday and said it.”

“Okay, okay–point taken, darlin’,” he chuckled. He was gentle about pulling her down for a kiss, partly ’cuz he was still mostly asleep and didn’t wanna hurt her.

_“Mmm,_ I could get used to this,” Reagan sighed once they’d parted enough to talk.

“Till I go on tour again,” the bassist said. “’Cuz I’ve said before that I fully Intend to keep doing what I do till I simply drop dead.”

“May that be another three decades down the road,” she told him. “’Cuz if we wind up officially together, I want as much Time with ya as I can get.”

_“Officially,_ huh?” Bobby chuckled. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Oh, don’t even try that shit with me,” the young woman laughed. “We’ve damn near been in a relationship since the Night we met–neither of us’ve actually said it, though.”

“Well, after whatcha told me about why ya even bought Rob and Rich in the first place, I kinda didn’t wanna push any buttons,” he admitted. “Doesn’t mean I haven’t thought about it, though.”

“Such a gentleman,” Reagan said with a grin. “Not that I’d turn ya down, if ya _did_ do a lil _button-pushing,_ as ya put it.”

“That so?” the bassist all but hummed, unable to help rubbing her back.

“If I do say so myself,” she chuckled, nodding.

“Well, then–in that case.” Bobby couldn’t help a sleepy, kinda boyish grin. “Will ya do me the greatest Honor of being my girlfriend?”

“Now, how could I say no to that?” the young woman countered with a grin of her own.

He couldn’t help the ecstatic noise he made as he punched the Air, his other hand dragging her down for another kiss. Even as their lips met and melded in a bit more passionate of a kiss, he knew there were gonna be a few thingsta work out between them. They lived in not only two different Cities, but two different _States,_ so no doubt one of them was gonna have to move closer to the other eventually.

In the meantime since they could always take fairly regular trips back and forth to visit each other, the bassist was more interested in how much better he could possibly make this Morn. Reagan pretty much never argued with him about whether to have a romp or not unless she’d a damn good reason, so he doubted she’d argue now. She preferred working _with_ his own biology over any other alternatives, and considering that he almost always woke hard as a rock–well, it was the optimal Time to even try going at it. Besides, he’d a few rubbers in his nightstand for the few Times he’d needed them in recent Times, so they were good there.

The young woman was a bit dubious about going at it when she knew Zoe was up and about, considering his house wasn’t nearly as big. Bobby merely grinned deviously and said that if his daughter heard something she didn’t wanna, she could always go lock herself in her room and turn her stereo up. Not only that, but she knew the area well enough that she could go find some other hidey-hole for a few hours. She could even go help her big brother, if she really wanted to preserve her Sanity by leaving the house that bad.

It seemed that she either couldn’t or wouldn’t argue with that, the young woman not even trying to stop him from rolling over so she was pinned beneath him. She simply mewled as he started attacking just about every hot spot she possessed that he could reach with both his mouth and hands. And that wasn’t including how he ground against her, now that his hips were nestled between her thighs like they’d belonged there since the Beginning of Time, itself. Before they knew it, he’d managed to get her jeans unfastened and shoved down to where they could be kicked off under the covers. His own PJ britches were quick to follow, and it was game-on as he reached over to his nightstand for one of those rubbers.


	14. Thirteen

By the Time Thanksgiving rolled around three and a-half weeks later, neither of the new couple could say they were disappointed with the turn their Lives’d taken. They’d been deliriously happy during the week Reagan spent down in Florida for her new boyfriend’s birthday before she and her dolls’d Returned home to Tennessee. Even said dolls were happy, despite a lil bit of Jealousy on both their parts–which seemed to be stomped into submission well enough by spending their Time with Rebel instead.

However, the one thing the young woman refused to admit by the Time they started their eleven-hour road trip back home was that she was feeling nauseous. Rob and Rich could both tell that something was wrong with her, if only ’cuz she’d professed to _hate_ Ginger ale–yet she was practically guzzling gallons of the stuff now. Neither really had any ideas on what could be wrong with her, considering that she rarely ever got sick with even a cold, and they certainly didn’t have any ideas on how to help her. After all, it wasn’t like either of them possessed a driver’s license–the only way they could run errands for her without driving illegally were on foot. That certainly wouldn’t help with something like taking her to a doctor, if they didn’t Intend to carry her in their arms or on their backs the whole way.

When Bobby arrived again the Sun’s Day before Thanksgiving–again, just two weeks after they’d parted–he was a bit disturbed to find the older-looking doll looking so stressed when he answered the door. In fact, he didn’t even pay any mind to the startled noises from his brother, niece, and nephew–whom he’d brought along with him for the holiday later in the week–as he took in the doll’s expression. Something told him that there was something wrong, and whatever it was highly involved his girlfriend, if the doll was looking like this. He didn’t doubt that his compatriot wore much the same expression wherever he was in the house, either.

“What’s wrong, Rob?” he asked, he and his family now in the foyer of his girlfriend’s house.

“Mistress has been quite unwell recently,” Rob answered, shoving his hair back outta his face with his free hand as he closed the door.

“Whaddaya mean?” the bassist asked, ignoring his family’s shocked looks as he almost immediately dropped his bag.

“She started drinking a lotta Ginger ale about the Time we came back home from Florida, even though she professesta hate the stuff,” he answered.

“So, she’s been nauseous a lot?” Bobby asked.

“Till about ten Days ago,” the older-looking doll responded with a nod. “Ever since then, we’ve barely been able to get her to keep that and crackers down.”

“Okay, I’m totally lost and more than a lil freaked-out,” the blue-eyed ginger who looked like his Inspiration finally said.

“Remember what I toldja about Rebel?” he asked as he finally turned his attention to him. “Well, Rob and his compatriot Rich’re the same way.”

The ginger’s eyes widened, as did those of the other pair he hadn’t met before.

“Speaking of, Rob, show them to the guest rooms while I’m checking on Reagan,” the bassist requested. “Not too sure how well Zach and Zoe remember the layout of the house, or I’d get them to.”

“Rich’s with her right now,” Rob told him, nodding. “If she’s not losing whatever she last tried eating, he’s prolly keeping her from sleeping with her head on the toilet seat again.”

Returning the nod, he headed off to the hall that led to the master suite while the older-looking doll led the others upstairs. He wouldn’t be surprised to Return to the main part of the house and find out that his kids, niece, and nephew’d all chosen to take the bunk room since there were already four beds in there, while his brother got the lone room that _didn’t_ belong to either of the dolls. But that was of lil import to him right now as he got to the main door of the master bathroom, which allowed him to see a foot sticking outta the Water closet doorway.

Bobby wasn’t surprised in the slightest to see the younger-looking doll’s back braced against the corner across from both the doorway his foot peeked out _and_ the toilet. He also wasn’t surprised to see his pale, somewhat clammy girlfriend curled up in the doll’s arms, which were loose enough to allow her to move, if she suddenly felt nauseous again.

Even still, he tried not to startle either of them _too_ badly, unsure of whether Rich was awake and just had his eyes closed as he relaxed as much as he could or had put himself into sleep mode while he’d the chance. The doll almost immediately opening his eyes quickly answered that question, ’cuz he wouldn’t have done such a thing as soon as he’d touched his foot, if he’d been asleep or his battery was dead. He couldn’t help a soft chuckle as his grip on Reagan momentarily tightened, then loosened as he realized who’d touched his foot.

“She feeling any better?” the bassist asked, having knelt down.

“Not really,” he answered, shaking his head. “This is the most she’s slept in about three Days.”

“Jesus Christ,” Bobby winced. “I’d ask why the hell ya haven’t taken her to see a doctor, but I’m pretty sure you and Rob don’t have a driver’s license.”

“We don’t, and it’d be pretty hard to explain what we are, if we got pulled over,” the younger-looking doll agreed. “I mean, we can both drive–she’s taught us how, just in case we ever had to–but we’d be driving like Bats outta Hell right now, if we tried.”

“Which’d getcha pulled over as quick as something stupid like a taillight being out,” he sighed. “And then, not only wouldja have to explain why ya don’t have a license, but why ya look so much like me and Richie on top of it.”

“Exactly,” Rich agreed with a nod. “And that’s just too much bullshit to deal with when Mistress needs help.”

“Well, let’s see if we can get her up from there,” the bassist told him. “Gods know I’ve my license, so I can take her to the ER.”

“And nobody’ll question _you_ about it,” he chuckled, shifting slightly.

Bobby let out a chuckle of his own as he said that the worst he’d get questioned about’d be the obvious age difference between himself and his girlfriend. Not everybody–especially here in the South–smiled upon a relationship like theirs, while others couldn’t care less about such things. The worst that’d prolly happen aside from that’d be someone mistaking them as father and daughter at first, which they could easily play along with. After all, they could make it seem like he really _was_ her father, rather than her boyfriend and was just concerned about her well-being like any other father’d be with even their grown children.

Nodding, the younger-looking doll managed to wake his Mistress without pissing her off, although she still wasn’t too happy about being woken while she’d been sleeping good. Seeing her boyfriend waiting to help her up sparked a mixture of Emotions, though, which neither of the males with her could quite figure out. While she seemed elated to see the man she loved, she also seemed irritated with his presence at the same Time.

Even Rich was quick to brush off that weird combination of Emotions as the bassist picked Reagan up, gently cradling her to his chest as he rose. He was more worried about what was making her so ill than whether she’d a bit wilder of a mood swing than what he was used to as he managed to get to his own feet. Watching the Silver Fox that’d Inspired the Creation of his compatriot head out the front door, though, didn’t really do anything to help quell his worry and Fear. At least he was able to tell Rob and their other guests that he was taking her to seek treatment when they asked, all of them knowing this was just a waiting game now.

Arriving back at Reagan’s house about four hours after he’d gotten her to the ER to be checked out, Bobby couldn’t say he wasn’t still shocked by the news they’d gotten. It turned out that his girlfriend wasn’t actually sick–not with a stomach virus or anything of the sort, that is. No, according to not only the blood work they’d done–once they’d gotten her rehydrated, that is–it turned out that she was pregnant. Both’d been thinking they were gonna get told that she’d a case of the flu or something, considering what Time of Year it was, so they’d definitely been caught off-guard.

However, there was no trying to dispute the results of the blood work, nor the urine pregnancy test she’d also been given after that result’d come in. A quick ultrasound from the on-call OB/GYN who’d been called down confirmed that she was definitely pregnant. The 2-D ultrasound they’d given her’d revealed a small patch of black in a Sea of grainy grayish-white, another grayish-white dot curled up in the middle of it. But the 3-D ultrasound she’d been given to be absolutely sure of the findings revealed an obvious embryo curled up in its tiny lil amniotic sac. Its tiny heart could be seen pulsating in the middle of its chest on that 3-D ultrasound, which the OB/GYN assured them was completely normal for this gestation.

Both were told that–judging by her hormone levels and what was seen in both ultrasounds–the young woman was roughly five or six weeks pregnant. The OB/GYN wanted to say that five and a-half weeks was prolly the most accurate, but she couldn’t be entirely sure without knowing the date of her last period. Not only that, but even if she _had_ known such information, it could sometimes be hard to tell this early in a pregnancy.

Either way, their baby was said to be somewhere between the size of a sesame seed and a Blueberry, a grain of Rice prolly being the most accurate description. It was roughly three-tenths of an inch long from the Crown of its head to its rump, and only a hundredth of an ounce in weight at this point. That meant that–if she’d been asymptomatic when it came to things like the nausea, vomiting, and feeling incredibly tired–Reagan wouldn’t have even noticed their baby’s presence for at least another couple months.

“Well, I can’t say this is _entirely_ bad news,” Bobby chuckled after parking his car outside her garage door again. “I mean, I thought I was done having and raising babies, but…”

“Ya better not be about to say you’re gonna leave me high and dry, just ’cuz ya didn’t want more kids,” the young woman warned him with a slightly dirty look. “I don’t care if we’ve been together a month or half our Lives–ya telling me that’ll just make me go do the one thing I _loathe_ even the idea of doing.”

“Don’tcha even _dare_ say that again unless it’s for your own Health,” he told her, a bit of a Dark look settling over his own face. “’Cuz like you, I don’t care how long we’ve been together–I helped cause this, and I’ma damn well be there till the bitter End.”

Reagan couldn’t help the slight smile that started to cross her face, one hand resting protectively over her belly.

“I might not’ve necessarily wanted more kids since mine’re grown, but damn it–I’m the idiot who didn’t go get snipped Years ago like I prolly shoulda,” the bassist said. “And we both know that rubbers don’t always work–right now being a Prime example of that–so I’m just as much at fault as you.”

“Well, to be honest, I never wanted kidsta start with,” she sighed as he grabbed her hand. “So, if ya told me ya were gonna leave me just ’cuz ya didn’t want anymore yourself–well, ya can’t really blame me for even considering adoption or abortion.”

“May Butch, Rob, Rich, and Zach all gang up on me to rip my nuts off, if I ever tell ya such a thing,” Bobby said, not even chuckling since he was so serious.

She knew damn good and well he meant every word he said without having to ask since he never said such things without at least smirking unless he did.

“Let’s getcha back inside so we can give ya that first dose of your high-powered Pepto,” the bassist told her. “’Cuz from what Rob and Rich were telling me, it sounds like ya need it.”

“That, and more sleep,” Reagan agreed, unable to stifle a yawn.

Nodding, he finally killed the motor and opened his door, the ensuing chime dying instantly as he pulled his keys outta the ignition. The young woman barely managed to get her few belongings together and open her own door before he’d closed his and rounded the car to help her out. But she was grateful all the same, even as the front door opened and both her dolls stepped out onto the front porch.

Said dolls were both still worried about her as Bobby carried her into the living room, where he gently settled her on the couch. Even his brother, niece, nephew, and kids were all worried about her, considering they’d been filled in by the dolls and they could all see how pale she looked. He was more than a bit glad to know that, ’cuz it meant they cared at least a lil bit, as he turned to head into the kitchen with her scrip bag from the pharmacy they’d stopped at on their way back. As far as he was concerned, that meant more eyes and earsta keep–well, eyes and ears out for her while they were here.

“What on Earth’s that?” Rob asked curiously, he and his compatriot having followed him over to the island.

“Basically, a stronger version of something called Pepto-Bismol,” the bassist chuckled.

“Ah, we gotcha,” his compatriot said with a nod. “Mistress has told us about that stuff before.”

“Then I don’t need to explain what it’s used for,” he told them as he opened the bottle.

“Not really,” the older-looking doll answered with a slight shake of his head.

“We’re just more worried that something’s done to End this illness,” Rich admitted, gladly taking what he’d measured out over to their Mistress for him.

“Well, unfortunately, it’s not gonna stop entirely for a while yet,” Bobby said, screwing the actual lid back on the bottle. “But this _should_ at least help with the nausea and vomiting–if not, she’ll have to be taken back to the hospital to be admitted and given something even stronger.”

“So, what’s wrong with her?” Zach asked, unable to help a chuckle at how she grimaced as she swallowed the thick, pink liquid.

“Good thing the humans’re sitting down since I doubt even cracking their heads is gonna hurt the dolls,” the bassist chuckled. He quickly rinsed out the lil measuring cup that was brought back to him before joining his girlfriend, her dolls both settling on her other side.

“Um, I’m not sure whether to say that sounds ominous or not,” Zoe admitted, looking a bit disturbed.

“The easiest way to put it–let’s just say I’ma be looking into getting snipped before anymore _happy accidents_ happen,” he said, unable to help a grin.

“Wait, _what?”_ His son’s jaw dropped in pure shock as he processed what he’d just said.

Bobby couldn’t help a laugh as even his brother, niece, and nephew figured out what he meant, his girlfriend giggling and rubbing her belly where she was curled up against his side. He’d been trying to put being an expectant daddy again to them gently, knowing it was no doubt gonna be shocking, no matter how he’d chosen to phrase it. After all, he’d just turned fifty-seven a few weeks ago and had sworn ever since his daughter was born that he didn’t want anymore kids, that the two were more than enough for him.

“So, just how far along _are_ ya?” Butch asked once everybody’d mostly regained their wits.

“The OB/GYN they called down to gimme an ultrasound swears by five-to-six weeks, five and a-half prolly being the most accurate,” Reagan answered. “Sounds about right, ’cuz the last period I remember having started on October fifth.”

“Wait, really?” Even Rich seemed surprised.

“Ya know I don’t tell even y’all about that shit,” she laughed as she grinned at her dolls. “But since sperm can survive in the female reproductive tract for up to a week after they’re deposited–well, conceiving at some point during that week Bobby and his kids were up here for my birthday ain’t outside the Realm of Possibility.”

Everybody in the room looked thoughtful as they pondered that notion, even her boyfriend.

“I mean, y’all got up here on the eleventh, and my birthday was on the fourteenth,” the young woman explained. “Usually takes a woman thirteen Days from the start of a period to ovulate again, which wouldn’t have happened till the eighteenth, which was when y’all left.”

“But even if ya went at it only on the Days we arrived and departed, ya still coulda easily conceived the same Day we left again,” the bassist mused.

“Bingo, _l’amore,”_ Reagan chuckled, readjusting her head slightly. “And I’m pretty sure it’s between three and six weeks into a pregnancy that a woman starts getting nauseous, never mind losing everything she triesta eat, if she’s gonna get Morn sickness at all.”

Bobby couldn’t help a chuckle of his own as he said that sounded about right to him, based on his now-vague memories of his ex-wife’s pregnancies. He couldn’t remember the exact Timing, but he wanted to say it’d been around four or five weeks in that even she’d started getting at least mildly nauseous. Considering how long it’d been since then, though, nobody was really surprised that he couldn’t quite remember and didn’t hold it against him.

However, his ginger of an older brother pinned a bit of a hard look on him, making no bones about how he’d tear him apart, if he left this girl on her own with a baby he’d fathered. Whether he was a wild rock star, or that she technically had the help of her dolls, or not didn’t matter to him–he knew damn good and well he’d been raised better than that. If he dared insult their dearly departed mama by contributing to the conception of a child, then walked out on said child like their own father’d done to them and their equally departed sister, he’d do worse than just rip his nuts off.

Butch was pleased when his younger brother vehemently denied having even considered such a thing, his expression screaming that he wanted to knock him a good one for even suggesting that he had. Reagan coming to his Defense by telling him what he’d said just before they got outta his car to come back inside only cemented that he wasn’t gonna walk out on his child, even if it was far from planned.

It wasn’t long before said young woman started dozing off against her boyfriend, her stomach finally settled for the first Time in about three weeks. Since she was obviously so exhausted, Bobby said they’d worry about feeding her once she’d gotten some rest, even if that meant giving her another dose of that high-powered Pepto first. He didn’t want her pushing herself beyond her limit by trying to stay up when she could barely keep her eyes open anymore, as long as she at least tried to eat later. Only ’cuz he knew she wasn’t likely to die in the next few hours or so did he simply scoop her up against his chest again, a slight smile at her soft moan crossing his face as he headed to the master suite to put her to bed.


	15. Fourteen

It didn’t take Bobby long after finding out that he was an expectant daddy again to decide on what he wanted to do with his Future. While he fully Intended to remain a part of his band till he just physically couldn’t do it anymore–and by that, he meant something akin to being a bedridden vegetable who was or wasn’t on Life support and couldn’t take care of himself–he knew that might not happen now. But whether he remained a part of his band or not, he wasn’t about to be cut outta his unborn baby’s Life, no matter what it took.

Since he knew they were gonna need a bigger house–even if it was just for himself and their trio of sex dolls–he told Reagan pretty quick that he’d just as soon sell his house and move to her. If he didn’t take that route, he’d just give it to his existing kids so they wouldn’t have to worry about finding a new home, if nothing else. Either way, he wasn’t gonna try getting her to move down to Florida with him, especially since she hadn’t seemed to like the climate when she’d visited for his birthday. Finding out that she didn’t tolerate heat and humidity very well, not to mention was terrified of getting caught up in a Hurricane–especially in the middle of her pregnancy–just reinforced his decision.

By the Time the bassist’d managed to get his belongings packed up and moved to Nashville, his young girlfriend was roughly eleven weeks pregnant. She was still suffering Morn sicknessta the point of needing her high-powered Pepto, but that didn’t seem to be affecting the growth of their baby. He’d managed to make a trip up to Nashville with part of his belongings just in Time to accompany her to an OB appointment, and he’d been just as pleasantly surprised by what the ultrasound she was given revealed. Their baby was actually discernible as a tiny human, said to be about the size of a Lime or a Plum, and its heartbeat now audible.

“It’s so tiny, but yet, it seems so big,” Bobby chuckled, his hand resting on her already-growing bump as they looked at the print-out of the ultrasound picture again.

“I’m just glad that being so damn sick hasn’t impeded that,” the young woman said. “’Cuz lemme tell ya, I think Rob and Rich’re ready to rip their hair out from worrying about me.”

“Costs too much to have it replaced, though, huh?” he asked.

“That, and it hurts for them just as much as it’d hurt for us,” Reagan laughed, nodding.

Neither of them got a chanceta say anything else before a knock at the front door interrupted them, making their brows furrow.

“Didn’t know we were expecting anyone today,” the bassist said as he moved to get up from the couch.

“Don’t look at me–I didn’t invite anyone,” she responded as he headed off to the front door.

Bobby was a bit wary, as evidenced by how he grabbed one of her daggers off the built-in closest to the front door as he passed it. Then again, he was still settling into a new environment, so he was a bit jumpy from making those adjustments like any normal person’d be. Having a pregnant woman–and one who just happened to be his girlfriend and carrying his child, at that–just made him even jumpier than he’d normally be.

Getting to the front door and seeing his manager and the rest of his band, not to mention his kids, through the sidelights took him by surprise. They hadn’t had any plans of getting back into the studio to write new material in nearly twenty Years since he didn’t really count their covers album from 2007 as a true album. Not only that, but even if they _had_ made such plans, they never worked through the holiday Season unless they were on tour–which hadn’t happened in decades. Even when they’d been recording _Open Up, Flesh and Blood,_ and the lone album with Richie– _Native Tongue_ –they hadn’t worked through the holiday Season.

“Well, can’t say this isn’t a surprise,” the bassist chuckled, making no bones about hiding the dagger he’d grabbed as he opened the front door.

“Now, imagine how surprised _we_ were to get to Florida and be toldja didn’t live there anymore,” Bret laughed, moving to give him a hug.

“What the hell sparked _that,_ by the way?” Rikki asked, moving to take his turn.

“Zach and Zoe haven’t told us shit other than ya decided to move to Nashville,” their lead guitarist added.

“We might wanna take this pow-wow to the living room before I answer that,” he told them.

Bobby knew damn good and well all the guys remembered this house, if only vaguely, as he gestured toward the aforementioned living room. Their memories were clearly jogged when they walked into said room and saw his girlfriend curled up on the couch, judging by how warmly they greeted her. He knew that other than looking a lil tired and maybe a bit pale compared to what they remembered, nothing seemed outta the ordinary, so they wouldn’t even suspect a thing just yet.

“Good to see ya again, girl,” even Bert chuckled as they all got settled.

_“Please_ tell me those dolls’re asleep,” CC begged.

“Yes, Rob and Rich’re asleep right now,” the young woman chuckled, snuggling against her boyfriend again once he sat back down. “They’ve been pretty busy lately, so their batteries’ve been running dead quicker.”

_“Busy,_ huh?” the vocalist laughed, unable to help his dirty grin.

“Like that _and_ in other ways, asshat,” Reagan told him. “Blame your Silver-haired band mate for that one, boys.”

“Who, me?” The bassist feigned an innocent expression that disappeared just as quickly as he burst into laughter. “I seem to recall us agreeing that _you’re_ just as much at fault, darlin’.”

“What’re ya talking about?” the drummer asked, looking as confused as their manager and remaining blonde band mates.

“Well, might as well not beat around the bush,” Bobby chuckled. “We found out a few Days before Thanksgiving that Reagan’s pregnant.”

_“What!?”_ The guys’ jaws all dropped as they barked out the lone word in unison.

Said young woman couldn’t help a giggle as she nodded and passed around the pictures of her most recent ultrasound. Neither were quite sure if the guys were happy for them or upset at the news, but they didn’t really care–there was no undoing what’d been done, and even these four should know that. Then again, whether they were happy or not wouldn’t matter, if they pushed a few too many of the Silver Fox’s buttons and pushed him into quitting the band.

Once everyone’d Calmed down, said bassist made no bones about just that–that he’d as soon quit the band as let them make him feel bad or guilty about something that was totally unplanned. His band mates all knew how much he valued his family–he’d half-raised his older kids on the road after his divorce, which’d left him with full custody, after all.

It took a few moments, but Rikki was the first to finally take a deep breath before a smile crossed his face as he looked him dead in the eye. Whether the other two were or not, he was happy for him, even if this was a surprise none of them’d seen coming. Their friend had been about as miserable as it got ever since his divorce in 2001, even though he rarely showed it externally. He deserved to finally find another woman he was actually happy with, and if it meant adding to his family–even if such an addition was completely by accident–well, they’d just have to take his Happiness in stride.

“Hey, I’m not saying I’m _not_ happy for him,” Bret said. “It’s just surprising since we didn’t even know he and Reagan got together.”

“Eh, we made it official the Day before my birthday,” Bobby chuckled. “Things’ve just been nuts with the holiday Season, finding out about her pregnancy, and me moving up here since then.”

“Yeah, even I can see how that’d make sharing even the news of ya getting together a low-priority item on the list,” CC laughed.

“So, how’re ya two taking it?” the vocalist asked, looking at his older kids.

“Eh, still getting used to Dad having a girlfriend our age,” Zach answered honestly.

“It’s kinda weird knowing that the mother of our new sibling’s practically the same age as us,” Zoe agreed. “I mean, she could be our sister, this baby our niece or nephew.”

“Yeah, I’m sure that’s definitely a bit weird,” their manager said, nodding.

“But honestly, I haven’t seen Dad happy enough to piss smiley faces and shit Rainbows in Years,” the young man said with a chuckle, outright laughing at the grin said dad shot him. “Oh, don’t even try to tell me that’s not the case, Dad!”

“I never said it wasn’t, son,” the bassist snickered. “’Cuz I’d be lying, if I tried to deny it.”

“Too badja don’t _actually_ shit Rainbows, though,” Reagan laughed. “At least my poor nosie wouldn’t get assaulted, if ya did.”

The entire group cracked up at her veiled admission that he stunk like hell when he took a shit, which was something they’d known for Years. Whether he shit in the proper place or a cereal box, his band mates’d known pretty much since Poison’s infancy that he was one rotten-smelling mother fucker. Course, they couldn’t really say any differently about themselves, no matter how they Changed their diets to attempt fixing that problem, so they couldn’t really give him shit about that.

After Calming down so they could actually talk again, the Time for the business at hand finally came up as the opportunity presented itself. They’d been working on setting up another Summer tour almost from the Time they’d embarked on the _Stadium Tour_ alongside Joan Jett, Def Leppard, and Mötley Crüe. So far, it was looking like they were gonna be joining those latter two bands again, which was fine by all of them.

What caught Bobby’s attention the most was when Bert said that they’d pretty much nailed down the tour dates, but were still looking into adding a fourth band to the roster. He didn’t particularly care about his sex Life while he was on the road–he’d pay for his own bus outta his own pocket so he could take Rebel with him, but not freak CC out too much, if he had to. The thing that he was more concerned about was exactly _when_ the tour was supposed to Begin and End, as well as when any scheduled Time off was supposed to happen. If there was one thing he _didn’t_ wanna do, it was miss his baby’s Birth ’cuz he was on the fuckin’ road at the Time.

“At the moment, we’re supposed to be kicking off right here in Nashville on June nineteenth,” the vocalist told him.

He shot a look at his girlfriend that none of his friends could quite describe. “Fuck, that was exactly what I _didn’t_ wanna hear,” he sighed.

“What’s _that_ supposed to mean?” the drummer asked.

“My due date’s July sixth,” Reagan answered, covering his hand with hers when he gently covered her belly with the appendage.

“Oh, shit,” the guitarist breathed. “The news is gonna get even worse, then.”

Bobby cocked a brow, now unsure if he wanted to know or not.

“We’re supposed to be at the Busch Stadium in St. Louis on July sixth,” Bert told him with a sigh of his own.

“Damn it,” the bassist grumbled. “I’ma wind up getting a call that I need to come home and not have a replacement, if she doesn’t go into labor on one of our Days off.”

“Well, ya _could,”_ his girlfriend said. “But CC’d have to get over his apparent Terror of our dolls.”

“Wait, what?” CC’s eyes widened. “No way, girl–those things’re freaky!”

“I didn’t mean taking Rob on the road with ya,” she chuckled. “That’d raise too many questions since he’s designed to look like Bobby’s _Flesh and Blood_ era Self.”

“Then what _do_ ya mean?” Bret asked curiously.

Reagan grinned as she said that–although it’d no doubt cost a pretty penny and take some finagling–they could prolly have a different version of Rob made as a replacement. This one could be designed to look the same way the Silver Fox did now, right down to his hair coming slightly below his shoulders instead of being down to his nipples. It could even be programmed to think like a recovering alcoholic who’d shy away from drinking anything but Water or something caffeinated, which was more true-to-form.

It was the taller blondes that looked kinda intrigued by that notion, their shortest blonde friend looking like he wanted to veto that option without even considering it. They hadn’t asked very many questions about these dolls and how they were supposed to function in a clean _or_ dirty sense, but it was certainly a possibility. After all, as long as the version they were talking about having Created of Bobby now didn’t malfunction or go dead while they were onstage, they doubted the crowd would ever know the difference. Being told that the doll’d even sweat in an attempt to cool itself off before it simply got forced into sleep mode made their eyes Light up since that’d definitely play into the desired effect.

“The thing that’s prolly gonna be the weirdest part’s Bobby having to model for it to be made,” the young woman chuckled.

“Oh, God–do I even wanna know whatcha mean by that?” he asked with a groan.

“Well, there’s a couple different ways ya can do it–but both’re gonna require full nudity, if ya want it done right,” Reagan answered with a grin.

“You’ll have a lil too much fun with that, I think,” the bassist chuckled, even though he sounded a bit nervous now.

“Prolly, but so’ll you, if we wind up taking over an empty storage closet,” she retorted.

“Okay, I can’t even Begin to disagree there, darlin’,” Bobby laughed. “So, do explain this part, or I’ma veto from not knowing what to expect in the slightest.”

“First part’s making the negative, or Lifecast,” the young woman told him. “Basically, you’re gonna get covered in silicone so it’ll dry in the shape of whatever body part it’s put on–face, neck, limbs, junk, you name it.”

_“Uhhhh…”_ He looked a lil freaked-out at the Thought of that, especially having anything of the sort applied to his crotch, which he cupped protectively without even realizing he did so.

“Not like it hurtsta get the silicone pulled off again,” Reagan snickered. “It won’t even pull out any body hair, if it’s mixed up and applied right.”

“You’re shitting me,” Rikki laughed.

“I most certainly am not,” she told him. “Howddaya think Rebel got cast?”

The guys all looked surprised as she essentially told them she’d stood still for somebody to coat everything–even her tits and pussy–in silicone so a doll of her could be made. A grin split the young woman’s face as she confirmed that that was why she’d been out in Los Angeles when they’d killed off the _Stadium Tour_. If not for that reason, she wouldn’t have made use of the all-access pass Bobby’d emailed her that could be used at _any_ venue on their tour.

Once they’d all processed that part, the young woman continued with how a positive core’d be made before a second set of negatives’d follow. From there, the actual doll’d be cast by pouring whatever medium they Intended it to be made from into the multi-part mold. After it’d cured so it was solid like the ballistics dummies often made by the Mythbusters on their show, it’d be more or less a finished product.

“So, the silicone’s poured _around_ that Steel skeleton you’re talking about?” Bret asked.

“Yeah, ’cuz otherwise, you’d have to cut the silicone back open, shove in the Steel, then find a way to close it again without making it look like Frankenstein,” she chuckled.

“Well, ya said there was another way he could model for the doll,” Rikki said. “So, what other way could it be done?”

“Well, 3-D imaging can go a long way with this like this,” Reagan admitted. “It’s just not quite as accurate as having a silicone mold made instead.”

“I think we’d _have_ to do 3-D imaging on my face,” the bassist told her. “Ask how quick to try to bite even them when hands that aren’t my own get put in my face.”

“He ain’t shitting ya, either, girl,” the vocalist laughed, grinning as he mimed grabbing his face like he was gonna try shoving him back outta his own.

Bobby’s immediate reaction wasta try biting the hand that suddenly appeared in his face like he was a Pit Bull or something, a growl rumbling up outta the depths of his chest as he yanked that hand back. “Fucker, ya know better!”

“Okay, yeah–we might have to go with 3-D imaging on your _everything,_ if you’re gonna react like that,” she laughed. “’Cuz ya can’t squirm for a silicone mold of even a finger to be made.”

“Yep, 3-D imaging it is,” the bassist said. “’Cuz no way am I gonna be able to stand still, if someone other than you’s playing with my junk and slathering goop all over it.”

Even his kids couldn’t help cracking up at his admission that he wouldn’t be able to stop himself from squirming uncomfortably, but they didn’t exactly blame him. They weren’t quite sure how the young woman’d managed to stand still while somebody was slathering her most intimate regions with silicone for the mold to cast Rebel with. Grinning, she said that she’d all but mastered something called compartmentalization, which allowed her to essentially turn off certain reactions at Will. Slipping into a meditative tranceta put her mind in a bit of a safehouse also certainly helped with keeping her still, so she’d managed to tolerate it well enough.

Bobby said that as long as they could get their guitarist used to seeing a robotic version of his current Self, it’d definitely be something worth looking into. As long as none of his nude pictures wound up online or anything, he didn’t mind standing still for the 3-D imaging nearly as much as having a mold made of him. Even if it wasn’t quite as accurate, it just had to be good enough to fool fans at even meet-and-greets, and that was assuming the doll even got used in the first place.

Since they couldn’t really do much else, said bassist went to wake up the pair of dolls who’d been charging, if they hadn’t already woken up and were just hiding in their rooms for the moment. Reagan was quick to give him a kiss before heading off for a potty break, which made her grumble till she was in the master suite hall and well outta earshot. If they were gonna even consider having a second doll of him made, they might as well use the ones that’d already been made to their advantage to get CC more used to them. After all, these things got expensive quick, so there was no sense in spending personal _or_ band funds on something that wouldn’t get used, if they couldn’t get him to overcome his Fear.

Once they were woken up and brought outta their rooms, Rob and Rich were filled in on their Mistress’ idea. Both agreed that it certainly had merit, ’cuz even the former was smart enough to realize that–without a serious makeover–he wouldn’t be able to fill in for his Inspiration. They all knew it’d take Time, but they’d Faith that they could get the guitarist more used to them before this next tour was supposed to kick off.


	16. Fifteen

_March, 2020_

Much to everyone’s surprise, it didn’t take nearly as long to get CC more used to the existing sex dolls as they’d thought it would. By the Time the first week of March–which was when Reagan hit her twentieth week of pregnancy–he’d almost forgotten that Rob and Rich were animatronic dolls, rather than actual humans. The only things that ever really reminded him of that was when they’d purposely stop breathing, when their eyes lit up due to getting on their charging docks or a Silent conversation between them, or when their batteries’d die and they’d simply go limp wherever they happened to be. Not even their never eating in front of him reminded him that they were dolls, ’cuz he just kept thinking that they’d eat when his back was turned till someone reminded him that wasn’t the case.

Assured that spending money–personal or otherwise–on such a thing wasn’t gonna be as bad an idea, the entire band was able to agree that maybe having another animatronic version of Bobby made wasn’t a wholly bad idea. If he should get a sudden call barely into their next tour that he needed to get home before he missed his baby’s Birth and pissed off his girlfriend, he could essentially be in two places at once. Provided that no one opened their big mouths, it wasn’t like any of the crowds were gonna be able to tell the difference from a distance, which was the whole point.

If even Reagan’d their way about it, none of the crowds’d be able to tell the difference between man and doll, even if they were right up on the doll. That was the very reason the couple’d flown out to Los Angeles before she hit the cut-off date for flying during pregnancy. After all, she wasn’t gonna let her man go through the hell of having to pose nude for even 3-D imaging to be done so his next clone could even be made, considering that he still wasn’t exactly comfortable with the idea. To that End, they’d to do it now or never, and it wasn’t a matter of whether he’d finally shored up his Courage or not. If they didn’t do it now, it wouldn’t get done before the tour kicked off, ’cuz the young woman’d hit that flying cut-off date before it could be.

“Ugh, I’m still iffy as hell about this,” Bobby grumbled, unbuttoning his shirt in the dressing room at the studio they’d headed into.

“I know, I know,” his girlfriend chuckled, gently rubbing her belly. At twenty weeks now, one could definitely tell she was pregnant, considering their baby was said to be the size of either a Cantaloupe or a Banana.

“If it weren’t for not wanting our newsta go public by ditching the guys mid-tour, though, I wouldn’t bother,” he sighed as he shrugged his overshirt off.

“Hey, at least you’re not going through it alone like I did,” Reagan told him.

“You’re the one who choseta do that, not me,” the bassist shot back, a small smile starting to form.

“Woulda still been niceta have ya there with me, asshat!” she retorted, which got that smile to really show itself.

“I swear, you’re too good for me,” Bobby finally laughed, moving to hug her after pulling off even his tank top. “Even when I’m anxious enough for _Lil Bobby_ to start playing _Turtle,_ ya find ways of making me laugh.”

“The mark of a helluva woman, if ya ask me,” the young woman said, wrapping her arms around his neck.

He definitely couldn’t argue with that sentiment as he took his chanceta steal a kiss from her, both knowing they didn’t have Time for even a quickie. That much was proven when someone knocked on the door, which was what made them part so he could look up and call out permission to enter. Neither were surprised to see today’s photography director, a woman by the name of Rochelle, open the door just wide enough to let herself in before closing it behind her.

“Just about ready, Mr. Kuykendall?” she asked with a chuckle.

“Almost–just trying to get my head in the right place for this,” the bassist answered, nodding.

“He’s prolly more nervous than I was when I posed for that first negative to be made,” Reagan told her, unable to help a grin.

“Well, if he’s never done this kinda thing before, I’m not surprised,” the photographer laughed.

“Never posed anything less than shirtless for my ex-wife, and even that didn’t happen very often,” Bobby admitted, his face turning a bit pink. “Never really liked doing even that, whether it led to a romp or not.”

“Just not comfortable in your own skin or something?” she asked curiously.

“Used to be a starving artist whose ribs and spine could be seen without an X-ray,” the bassist chuckled. “So, yeah–it took me a while to even remotely start liking my body once I started getting some meat on _all_ my bones.”

“Well, the goal here’s not to highlight any flaws, but rather the good parts,” Rochelle told him. “Going by how we normally make these dolls since that’s the easiest way for me to explain it… Let’s say one leg’s longer than the other, like with Reagan–we can make both the doll’s legs the same length so one’ll never know you’ve that problem in Reality.”

He certainly looked intrigued by that Thought as he nodded.

“As for your junk–well, normally, we could Change the size of that by just using one of the pre-fabricated inserts instead of making an insert based on your actual genitalia,” the photographer continued. “That also goes for correcting a curvature that you’re insecure about, not to mention any blemishes or scars elsewhere on your body.”

“I think the only thing I don’t really like about my body these Days is this,” Bobby admitted, gesturing to his throat. “Almost twenty Years, and the scar from my discektomy and spinal fusion’s _still_ not quite faded enough for my liking.”

“Won’t even be in the final product, if ya don’t want it to be,” she assured him.

“I think the most we need to do to that’s just lighten it up a bit,” Reagan said thoughtfully. “’Cuz if it disappears altogether, that’ll throw off the effect we’re going for unless you’re gonna say ya covered it up with concealer for a few Nights or something.”

The bassist cocked his head thoughtfully as he pondered that, but he was quick to realize that she’d a very valid point about that. Even in promotional shots from three or four Years ago, the scar that ran alongside the right side of his Adam’s apple was simply too visible. If he was in the right Lighting and one was close enough, they could see the brighter line with so much ease that if it suddenly disappeared, he’d have to claim something like having finally decided to use concealer or something. Otherwise, people’d realize that something was up if this new doll ever had to actually fill in for him, but didn’t have that obvious scar.

After stealing another quick kiss, Bobby stepped behind a screen so he could shuck his jeans and boxers before grabbing a provided robe. He didn’t want this photographer seeing him nude any longer than she absolutely had to, or he’d have just dropped trow right in front of her. With another deep breath to Calm his nerves, he jerked the belt of his robe tight around his waist and stepped back out.

Rochelle led the couple to her studio, where she’d be taking the 3-D shots that’d be used for the Creation of this next doll. For the first few, she wanted his hair tied up in the dreaded man-bun so his back and shoulders were bare, that way they could get the proper details for the doll. Once those shots’d been taken, it’d be up to him whether he let his hair down again or not, but his girlfriend knew what his answer was before he ever opened his mouth. Unless he let her braid his hair for something since it wasn’t layered like it’d been throughout most of the eighties, he hated his hair being tied back more than he didn’t.

Nodding, the bassist knelt down long enough to let Reagan tie his hair up into that aggravating and highly embarrassing man-bun. With that done, he rose back to his full height and finally untied the belt of his robe, even though he was still incredibly nervous. He didn’t miss the photographer eyeing him as he handed that robe to his girlfriend, but he couldn’t quite tell if it was with an appreciative eye or a critical glance. After all, she was a photographer for a reason, and he was effectively her canvas today, if one looked at it from more of an artistic standpoint.

“All right, you’re gonna be standing right here,” Rochelle told him, guiding him to the spot she wanted him. “Shoulders back, feet spread like you’re about to fire a shotgun, and chin up.”

“Just don’t leave me like this for too long,” he said, unable to help a bit of a wince. “Doesn’t exactly feel good with that surgery I mentioned earlier.”

The photographer’s brows furrowed in slight confusion.

“I usually don’t suffer any pain anymore, but it still hurts sometimes, if I try to straighten my spine beyond that Titanium’s limits,” Bobby chuckled. “So, I can take it for a lil bit, but not very long.”

“Good thing this won’t take long, then, huh?” she asked, that frown quite literally turning upside-down.

The bassist couldn’t help heaving a relieved sigh before resuming the position she’d put him in.

“Look straight ahead at that lil dot on the wall,” Rochelle told him.

He didn’t bother nodding as he did as told, even though said dot looked blurry since he didn’t have his glasses on.

_“Annnnd_ we’re done!” the photographer announced within two minutes, if it took her that long.

“Damn, really?” Bobby couldn’t help his brows rising in surprise as she stepped back into view.

“Sure are,” she laughed, his girlfriend waddling over with his robe.

“Definitely quicker than going the Lifecast route,” Reagan giggled. “I only went that route ’cuz I’d more than enough free-Time on my hands, and I wanted the doll of me even more Realistic.”

“I still wouldn’t go that route, even if it was the only one available,” the bassist chuckled, sighing softly as he wrapped his robe around himself and tied its belt again. “This was bad enough–I’m definitely not letting someone make a silicone mold of my dick.”

Said girlfriend merely giggled again as she rubbed his back in a Comforting gesture.

“Go on and get dressed, then we’ll go over the shots,” Rochelle told him

Nodding, he let the young woman wedge herself against his side as they headed off to the dressing room so he could get dressed again. Maybe this hadn’t been as bad as he’d thought it’d be so far, but he still felt the need to unwind and get his head on straight again. That could come after they’d gone over those 3-D shots and picked the best ones for this doll’s construction, though, so it wouldn’t be long till he got that kinda chance since they were heading to Rikki’s as a sorta layover.

Still, Bobby couldn’t help the desire to grab his girlfriend for a hug once they were in the dressing room, his nose almost immediately making a beeline into her hair. He could use the Comforting Energy she was radiating till he got that chanceta just hide and recharge, which’d no doubt help with wrapping his mind around this. Part of him kinda felt violated, even though he’d done this 3-D photo shoot willingly, which was why he felt so rattled. Luckily, Reagan seemed to get how he was feeling–prolly more so, since she’d gone the Lifecast route–and didn’t try to deny him that Comforting gesture and Energy. He didn’t know what he’d do without this woman, now that he’d met and fallen in Love with her, ’cuz she was the best thing that’d ever happened to him.


	17. Sixteen

“Hey, man–c’mon in.”

Fifty-one-Year-old Richie Kotzen was still a bit on-edge from the call he’d gotten a lil while ago, but considering who’d called him, one couldn’t blame him. He still nodded as he stepped into the home of former band mate Rikki Rockett, his guard definitely up as the drummer closed the door behind him. Many still thought he was an inherently bad man for the shit that’d gone down in the early-to-mid-nineties, and considering that fact, he couldn’t help wondering why this man’d gotten in touch with him after nearly three decades.

“Uh, I can’t help but say that I was surprised by your call,” he finally ventured, reaching up to rub the back of his neck.

“Has nothing to do with the Past, I can tell ya that,” Rikki chuckled. “Consider me a middleman of sorts.”

The virtuoso couldn’t help his confused look, his wariness only increasing as he processed that.

“Yo, Bob–get your ass down here!” he yelled up the stairs.

“Call me that again, Rockett, and I’ll dunk your junk in hot wax!” a somewhat familiar voice responded from upstairs.

“Not much of a threat or punishment, if I like it!” Rikki laughed.

“Make that boiling oil, then!” the same voice retorted, footsteps soon following.

Richie couldn’t help but be surprised when none other than Bobby Dall walked into the kitchen, a young woman behind him. It was quite obvious that she was pregnant, if her rounded belly was anything to judge by, and he almost immediately gave up the bar stool he’d settled on since there were only two for some reason. She was quick to shoot him a smile as she hauled herself onto it so she was settled comfortably, then grabbed the hand of the man she’d accompanied downstairs. He definitely couldn’t say he wasn’t surprised by that, considering that he’d almost thought she was a long-lost daughter he’d recently found out about or something.

“Relax, Richie,” the bassist chuckled, settling beside her. “Nobody’s gonna chop your junk off or anything.”

“Can’t blame me for being wary,” he retorted softly. “I mean, considering what got my bags thrown over a fence nearly thirty Years ago…”

“Water under the Bridge, and it needsta stay there till it evaporates and turns into Rain, far as I’m concerned,” the young woman spoke up, surprising him with her thick twang. “Dwell on shit from your Past, and you’ll miss the good in your Present, among other things.”

“She’s definitely not wrong.” Even the drummer nodded at the Sage Wisdom someone who appeared so young shouldn’t have. “I’ll never forgetcha cuckolding me like that, but that doesn’t mean I can’t forgive–which honestly, I did long before I met this young woman.”

_“Uhhhh…”_ Richie couldn’t help his urge to back himself against the nearest wall as if thinking one of them was gonna literally stab him in the back.

“Have fun,” Rikki chuckled. “I’ve better thingsta do unless you’re gonna freak him out right off the bat.”

“Oh, I’d considered it,” she snickered. “Not sure if Bobby and I can stand any screaming, though.”

“Not of that kind, anywhore!” he laughed.

“Get outta here before I use your own drumstick to soundja!” Bobby chuckled, shooing him off with a wave of his hand.

Once the drummer’d excused himself, the remaining pair turned their attention to the virtuoso who’d at one point been the baby of Poison. He couldn’t help fidgeting slightly, still refusing to step away from the wall he’d backed against as they seemed to size him up. What on Earth could these two apparently want that’d make the guy he’d once cuckolded act as a middleman, then leave him alone with them?

“Relax, Richie,” the young woman said. “Bobby wasn’t kidding when he said no one’s gonna hurtcha.”

“Like I said before, can’t blame me for being wary,” he grumbled.

“And neither of us do,” Bobby assured him. “But you’re running your blood pressure through the roof for nothing.”

The virtuoso still wasn’t too sure what they wanted as he crossed his arms, his legs automatically crossing at the ankle.

“Since we’ve never actually met, the name’s Reagan,” she chuckled.

“Um, not too sure what _that’s_ supposed to mean,” Richie said, now looking confused.

“The long and short of it–Reagan’s quite the Poison fan,” the bassist explained. “How much she knows about pretty much all members–current and former–aside from Blues is kinda scary sometimes, but it shows her Dedication as a fan, too.”

His eyes widened as he processed that, said eyes locking on her as he waited for one of them to continue.

“Now, hear us out before ya go _freakin’_ out,” Reagan told him. “’Cuz I’m serious when I say I’m not in the mood to listen to any screaming–getting Bobby’s head on straight again already took a lot outta me for being twenty weeks pregnant.”

Nodding, the virtuoso made a gesture to let them know they’d the floor and that he was listening, but otherwise didn’t move. He didn’t know _what_ to expect outta these two, especially Bobby, but he definitely couldn’t say he was expecting them to say something about needing his help. There wasn’t anything he could think of off the top of his head that any of his former band mates could possibly need his help with, especially nearly three decades after they’d gone their separate ways.

“Judging by the look on your face, ya can’t imagine why either of us’d need your help,” Reagan said.

“Well, no–nothing really comesta mind,” he admitted. “I mean, it’s been nearly three decades since I was fired from Poison, and I can’t say we’ve really kept in touch. Seen each other in passing, sure–kept in touch like old friends, no.”

“That’s ’cuz you’re not thinking outside the box,” the young woman chuckled, leaning against his former band mate when he wrapped an arm around her shoulders. “Or any other shape known to man, for that matter.”

Richie cocked a brow, his Curiosity now piqued a bit.

“Ya ever heard anything about realistic sex dolls?” she asked, unable to help a grin when she caught him so off-guard.

“What the fuck?” the virtuoso countered, his eyes widening.

“She’s not kidding, man,” Bobby laughed. “Damn things’re freaky at first, but they can be a shit-load of fun.”

He couldn’t help his jaw dropping when he said that.

“He knows what he’s talking about, Richie,” Reagan laughed. “’Cuz not only do I’ve two of ’em, but I bought _him_ one, too.”

“Wait, what?” Richie once again looked confused.

Laughing, the young woman explained how she’d even met the bassist, who was wearing a shit-eating grin as he wrapped his other arm around her. He wasn’t exactly surprised that they’d met at one of the band’s meet-and-greets last Summer–such was the case more often than not with a rock star and one of their fans, after all. But he definitely _was_ surprised when she explained how she’d been generous enough to open her home to guys that–on a personal level–were perfect strangersta her. She’d shown an almost Infinite amount of Trust in them by letting them into her home when anything she knew about them might not actually be true just ’cuz their hotel reservations got fucked-up.

“Imagine my surpriseta hear my own voice behind me in the middle of some rather adult fun,” Bobby dead-panned, grinning again as she gently elbowed him.

“Oh, ya know ya enjoyed that Night!” the young woman told him. “Well, other than Rob getting a lil _too_ curious for a moment, that is.”

“Ya seriously named a sex doll Rob?” Richie chuckled.

“Well, he’s based on Bobby–albeit his younger Self, when it comesta his looks,” she said.

“No fuckin’ way,” the virtuoso retorted.

“Rob, bring him on down!” Reagan yelled behind her. “Just have him wait in the foyer for a minute!”

“Yea, yea, Mistress!”

If he hadn’t known any better, he’d have sworn that either his former band mate was still upstairs, or he’d gotten into ventriloquism since they’d parted ways.

“Don’t look at me, man,” said bassist laughed. “I can roar like a Lion when I wanna, but I can’t throw my voice like that.”

Moments later, two more sets of footsteps all but galloped down the stairs, but only one body appeared in the kitchen doorway. The virtuoso couldn’t say he wasn’t surprised when he saw the iteration of his former band mate that’d existed back in the early-nineties, right down to the length and shade of his hair. Even the way this guy was dressed was practically identical to how Bobby’d dressed back then–and more or less _still_ did now. If he didn’t know any better, he’d swear he was just looking at the man’s now-grown son, who’d found old tour memorabilia or something.

“Damn, _this_ is what he’d look like now, if he aged?” the guy laughed.

“Yeah, ’cuz this is his Inspiration, Richie Kotzen,” Reagan chuckled.

“A pleasure,” he said, holding out his hand in a familiar gesture. “They call me Rob to differentiate, which Mistress did even _before_ she met Bobby.”

Richie was more than a lil surprised when he awkwardly accepted the handshake and felt how real his flesh–well, felt.

“Rob’s one of those dolls that I was talking about, though,” the young woman said. “I purposely had him made with artificial Intelligence, ’cuz at the Time, I didn’t Intend to ever date again.”

“So, what Changed your mind?” he asked.

“Meeting Bobby,” Reagan answered. “Granted, Rob still has his uses–some sexual, others more mundane.”

“My sexual services’re only offered when Bobby’s not in the mood,” the doll said. “Or when he needs a bit of a fluffer, as I’ve heard the term used in referenceta porn.”

He almost choked on his own spit when he heard that, which made the other couple crack up.

“Well, he’s not kidding, man,” Bobby managed once he’d Calmed down a bit. “Not that I’m saying Reagan’s a bad lover or anything, but–well, since he’s based on me, Rob knows shit she _still_ hasn’t figured out, and he uses every bit of it to his advantage.”

Rob simply smirked and took a momentary bow. “I was built and aim to please.”

“I imagine that’s _gotta_ be a lil weird sometimes,” the virtuoso finally said.

“Eh, not quite as weird as the Night Reagan and I met,” he admitted. “Due to that artificial Intelligence, he’s since learned shit like keep his hands away from my ass, or I’ma have him run through a car crusher.”

The young woman snickered, shaking with laughter when he jumped with a yelp moments later.

“That goes for you, too, darlin’!” Bobby snapped. “Course, I’ll at least be nice enough to wait till this booger’s born before I run _you_ through a car crusher!”

“Ya wouldn’t do that,” she laughed, clearly pulling her hand outta the back of his waistband. “Rebel might be based on me, but you’ve admitted that she’s still not the same.”

“At least I’d still get pussy that felt relatively real,” the bassist grumbled as he glared at her.

Richie’s eyes widened, but he chose not to ask or otherwise remark on it outta Respect for the couple and their privacy.

Still grinning as she turned her attention back to him, Reagan explained that–even without a few updatesta make some minor adjustmentsta his personality as she got to know her boyfriend better–this doll was pretty much identical to him in personality, too. Everything from the way he articulated conversations–of both the clean _and_ dirty sort–to how hyper he could get from being a Scorpio was on the table. He was even programmed to love cooking the same way his Inspiration did, even though he didn’t need to eat like humans did.

The virtuoso was more than a lil fascinated as she explained that all she really needed to do to take care of him was keep him charged, hydrated, and his software updated so he couldn’t be hacked or anything of the sort. He’d anti-malware, anti-spyware, and anti-virus programs that were pretty much military-grade stuff so that he wouldn’t turn on her and basically bring _Terminator_ to Life.

Granted, Richie was a bit startled when the doll’s eyes suddenly lit up like he’d been plugged in to charge, which was followed by the doll bursting into laughter. The young woman couldn’t help a laugh of her own at his expression, quickly explaining that he could essentially hold telepathic conversations with other dolls like him that happened to be nearby. In this case, it was most likely her other doll, but he could do that with even the one she’d bought for her boyfriend when he felt like it. Needlessta say, it could drive her bat-shit insane sometimes, but the dolls all liked being mischievous like that sometimes.

“Like the Day after ya met Bobby and the others,” Rob snickered. “Gods, that was fuckin’ _fuuuun.”_

“Do I even wanna know?” the virtuoso asked.

“Long story short, CC was creeped out by my other doll, ’cuz he and Rikki wound up bunking in said doll’s room for the Night,” she laughed. “When he got up the next Morn and found him in the living room alongside a second doll–well, he completely flipped since I’d told ’em they were just mannequins.”

“I guess I can see why,” Richie chuckled. “I’d prolly shit myself, if I was told something was a mannequin and found it in a completely different room.”

“Well, it coulda been explained as Reagan trying to punk the guys by moving him while they were asleep,” the bassist told him. “Till Rob spoke, but didn’t let his mouth move.”

“Don’t have to, if I don’t wanna,” he said, proving the point by doing just that. “I talk through a speaker, damn it, so all I gotta do’s make sure my lips’re cracked, and I can be heard plain as Day.”

“Talk about the ultimate ventriloquist,” he laughed. “Now I’m kinda curious about this other doll, though, since you’ve mentioned him, but haven’t actually said a name.”

_“Ohhhh, Riiiich,”_ Reagan more or less sing-songed.

“Ya rang, Mistress?”

The virtuoso jumped as he heard his own voice from the foyer, much like Bobby’d done the Night they’d met.

“Get on in here and let’s see if we can make him shit himself,” she laughed.

Richie almost didn’t wanna ask what on Earth she meant as he heard the soft rustling of something moving in the foyer. But moments later, he couldn’t help how his eyes widened and his jaw dropped as what he’d heard moving appeared in the kitchen doorway. He’d have sworn he was hallucinating, if he hadn’t known any better, considering the face that appeared right before his eyes.

Looking identical to how he’d looking between 1991 and 1993, this doll coulda been his twin back when he was a much-younger man. Every last lil detail from how his eyebrows were shaped down to how his eyes were kinda hooded in what a lotta folks called _bedroom eyes_ was exactly as it’d been when he looked in the mirror decades ago. He even noticed how the height and narrowness of his nostrils, not to mention his upper lip being thinner than his lower lip, was pretty much spot-on.

“Holy fuckin’ shit,” the virtuoso breathed, one pair of Sea-blue eyes staring into another.

“This is my other doll, Rich,” Reagan chuckled. “And yes, I call him that on purposeta differentiate between you and him.”

“So, _this_ is my Inspiration?” the doll asked, looking curious.

“Indeed, he is,” she answered, nodding as he took a step closer. “Just keep in mind what I’ve taughtcha about personal Space, his being what Inspired your Creation be damned.”

Rich almost instantly took a step back, restoring easily six feet between them.

“Jeez, I didn’t mean you’d to put _that_ much Space between y’all!” the young woman laughed.

“I’d rather not have my hard-ons hidden for a month at best, my battery taken for just as long at worst, Mistress,” he retorted, shooting her a bemused look outta the corner of his eye.

“Wait, _what?”_ Richie’s jaw dropped again. “Please just tell me I heard something about having hard-ons hidden from him, and that I’m _not_ going insane.”

“Well, ya _are_ kinda crazy–no rock star’s ever been _truly_ sane, if ya ask me–but no, ya didn’t mishear him,” she laughed.

Bobby was leaning over on his own clone as he just about died laughing, said clone of him laughing just as hard. “I once thought the same thing, man,” he managed between laughter.

Once everybody’d Calmed down so they could actually hear each other, Reagan explained what the younger-looking doll’d meant with that statement. The virtuoso was still more than a lil shocked to learn that he and his compatriot both’d interchangeable crotches, but it certainly made a lot more sense. After all, he doubted they functioned quite the same way as a human male when it came to showing physical arousal, never mind putting it to use. Granted, he was even more shocked when she grinned and told him the dolls could actually cum, which was the purpose in keeping them hydrated.

“Pretty much the only thing we _can’t_ do’s actually sire children,” Rich said, butting a hip against the counter he stood next to as he crossed his arms.

“Well, not without having _someone’s_ DNA fed into us,” his compatriot elaborated. “Without that, we won’t actually produce sperm.”

“Ya _gotta_ be shitting me,” the virtuoso breathed, looking Awed.

“Not in the slightest,” Rob answered.

“But like Rob, I don’t want any DNA but that of my Inspiration fed into me, so that’ll never happen,” the younger doll said. “It’d be too weird to be a sperm factory for someone, even if it benefitted an otherwise infertile couple or something.”

Richie looked thoughtful for a moment before a slight smirk curved his lips. “Ya know, if I were built that way, I’m not so sure I’d hold a different opinion on that.”

“And just to be clear–no, we’re not asking for your DNA for that very purpose,” the young woman chuckled. “If I ever decide to have more kids after this one, I’d rather be in a Romantic relationship with their father, whether that father’s Bobby or some other man.”

“Duly noted.” He simply nodded as he shifted his stance so his weight was braced on the opposite foot. “’Cuz no offense, but I feel the same way, or I’d have sired more than just my daughter.”

Reagan couldn’t help a laugh, both at his opinion on the matter _and_ the look on Rich’s face since she hadn’t told him that even _his_ Inspiration was a father. It was decently well-known, as was all the bullshit and drama that’d ultimately gotten him fired from Poison, but it’d never come up as a conversation topic. To be quite honest, she was a bit surprised he hadn’t made that discovery online when he started researching said Inspiration outta a combination of boredom and Curiosity.

“Well, she’s definitely not kidding,” the virtuoso chuckled. “Auggie’s my Pride and Joy like I’m sure Bobby’s kids’re his.”

The younger-looking doll couldn’t help cocking a brow curiously.

“My daughter,” he elaborated with a grin. “August Eve’s practically a brown-eyed, female clone of me in looks–not to mention being so into Music.”

Both dolls leaned closer when he pulled out his phone, which he laid on the island after fiddling with it for a few moments.

“She really _does_ look like a clone of ya,” Rob chuckled. “Actually, kinda reminds me of how much alike Bobby and his son, Zach, look.”

“Oh, I remember Zach,” Richie laughed. _“He_ prolly wouldn’t remember me–brat was a hair-pulling, diaper-dirtying lil snot the last Time I saw him.”

“He still looks every bit like me as he did then, too,” the bassist told him. “Reagan swears that if she didn’t know I’d gone gray, she’d get us mixed up all the Time.”

Said young woman retorted that she really _would_ get them mixed up, if it weren’t for some fairly obvious differences like that. Not even the virtuoso could help a laugh as she swore that he’d spit his son straight out his cock one of the Nights that he jerked off on tour or something, that he hadn’t needed the boy’s mother to reproduce. If not for the obvious age difference and slight differences in their accents–which were still extremely similar–there’d be no telling them apart. Gods forbid she should be half-asleep and go to kiss whom she thought was her boyfriend and mistakenly kissed his son instead. That’d just be too weird for all of them, but no doubt the younger Dall more so than either of the couple find the situation.

“But that brings me to why we got Rikki to call ya,” Reagan told him.

“Something tells me it can’t get any worse than what you’ve already told me,” he mused. “Might as well just lay it on me.”

“With this lil booger on the way, having extra hands at Times is gonna be pretty–well, handy,” the young woman said, rubbing her swollen belly. “Especially once Bobby takes off for Poison’s next tour this Summer.”

Richie couldn’t help cocking a brow at his former band mate.

“I blame a faulty rubber, man,” he laughed. “’Cuz I definitely didn’t Intend to have anymore–not with my own daughter just as grown as her brother.”

“But why take off on a tour with another kid on the way?” the virtuoso asked. “That’s the part that’s confusing me.”

“We’d already been trying to plan it out from the Time we kicked off last Summer’s _Stadium Tour,”_ Bobby answered. “We didn’t get exact tour dates till _after_ we found out Reagan’s pregnant, or I prolly woulda tried to talk the guys into postponing it.”

“With my due date being on July sixth, though–well, we’ve already come up with a plan for how to put him in two places at once so he doesn’t miss the Birth, if at all possible, but doesn’t have to ditch his band, either,” Reagan said. “That’s actually why we’re even in Los Angeles right now since we live outside Nashville.”

“Damn, actually managed to get him to leave Florida without ripping his nuts off?” he laughed.

“A man in Love’ll do some stupid shit sometimes,” the bassist chuckled. “Up to and including get his nuts filleted, if it means not pissing off his woman by siring another unexpected child.”

Richie listened as she continued laying out what they’d somewhat deviated from, and while part of him wasn’t surprised, he couldn’t deny that another part of him _was_. The young woman admitted that she wanted her dolls updated so they possessed their Inspirations’ parenting styles, ’cuz that’d be faster and easier than making them try to learn it all from her boyfriend. Granted, if they made the younger-looking doll try learning from him, he wouldn’t possess the parenting style of his Inspiration, which wouldn’t make him as true-to-form as he was supposed to be. It was for that reason that they wanted to kinda, sorta pick _his_ brain while they were out West, if they could manage to arrange this kinda pow-wow.

The virtuoso shifted his weight again as he pondered the idea, the expression on his face clearly a thoughtful one. He certainly couldn’t deny that his own parenting style was prolly a lot different than Bobby’s, whether it was stricter or a lil more lax, for lack of a better way to describe it. While the doll obviously based on him damn well _could_ learn from his former band mate, she’d a point in saying that it’d throw off his personality, and prolly a lil too much.

Picking his brain really wasn’t that bad of a favor to ask of him, and he was pretty quick to decide that he’d let them. After all, she’d made it pretty clear that she didn’t want anything like his sperm or any other DNA sample that could be added to the doll, so it wasn’t like they were getting _too_ personal. Besides, he might be able to Enlighten them to a few parts of the doll’s personality that were already a bit off since she clearly didn’t know quite as much about him as other Poison members. One thing that came to mind almost immediately was that while he’d his moments, this doll seemed a hair too shy and quiet to him.

Reagan laughed and admitted that she hadn’t quite been sure about that, or anything like his unique sense of humor till more recently. All she’d to really go on where a handful of videos she’d managed to find from the early-nineties, not to mention his expressions in _Native Tongue_ promo shoots. However, those were things that could be tweaked in the update she’d planned, and he was still more than glad to help them out.


	18. Seventeen

The next Morn when Bobby woke, part of him wasn’t surprised that he woke alone, even though he and his girlfriend hadn’t Returned home to Tennessee yet. Considering how far into her pregnancy she was, he figured she’d gotten woken up early with a kick to the bladder. Well, that was if she’d fallen asleep in the first place, ’cuz she often had trouble sleeping in unfamiliar surroundings, even when he was right next to her.

However, he _was_ a bit surprised to feel the obvious vibrations of Music from somewhere within Rikki’s house, given that he couldn’t actually _hear_ any. That pretty much told him that at least the dolls’d decided to invade the drummer’s home studio, which he’d told them they could do since it was soundproof and the vibrations shouldn’t bother anyone who was trying to sleep. Maybe that meant Reagan’d decided to join them, if only to watch since she wouldn’t actually play unless she’d been up for a while. With that in mind, he decided it was Time he got up, himself and tossed the covers off his legs so he could do just that.

Arriving down in the kitchen once he’d taken his Morn piss and gotten dressed, the bassist wasn’t surprised to see his blonde friend had just let Richie in. The virtuoso was supposed to be coming back when they’d more Time to actually assess the traits the younger-looking doll already possessed, which ones needed some tweaking, and which ones still needed to be added altogether. He simply waved to him as he slipped his glasses on, then grunted as he raised his arms over his head for a full-body Cat stretch.

“Still not a Morn man, huh?” Richie chuckled, careful to keep his volume down since he could tell he was still more asleep than he wasn’t.

“Till I gets mah coffeh, anywhore,” he grumbled.

“Then Rikki saves the Day before it can implode,” the drummer said, shoving a mug at him.

“If ya poisoned this, ya better hope it kills me,” Bobby warned him as he took it. “And that Reagan’s sadistic side doesn’t come out, if it does.”

“I think ya get enough poison from the band,” he snickered.

“Good thing my girl’s the antidote to that poison,” the bassist chuckled after taking that first sip. “Speaking of, where _is_ the lil she-devil I love?”

“She and all three dolls decided to hijack my studio,” Rikki told him. “Dunno what the hell they’re playing, but going by the vibrations, it’s nothing I’ve ever heard.”

“It feels familiar to me,” the virtuoso mused. “Bass and drums especially since the Melody riff’s really blending into those two.”

“Might as well go find out what it is, then,” he said. “’Cuz if we don’t, it’ll drive us all crazy.”

“I think ya mean _crazier,”_ Richie laughed, still keeping his voice down. “Your girl’d a point yesterday when she said that no rock star’s ever been truly sane.”

_“Touché,”_ the bassist agreed as he headed down to the basement, his mug still in hand.

Once they were downstairs, they could actually hear faint strains of Music through the walls, but that was prolly only ’cuz they were closer to the studio now. After all, even in the kitchen, they hadn’t been able to hear it as much as feel it via the vibrations Traveling through the floorboards under their feet. Course they were all surprised when they opened the door to the studio, the other two more so than Bobby was.

Settled behind Rikki’s practice kit, Rich was easily keeping tempo when it came to the percussion End of a band’s rhythm section. He played flawlessly, never once missing a beat any more than his Mistress–who was on bass this Morn–ever missed one. Granted, this particular bass riff was a lot more bouncing, for lack of a better way to put it, compared to anything ever written for a Poison song. Well, that’d to be amended to it was more bouncing than anything ever written for a Poison song that was supposed to be finger-picked, which she was actually doing with ease.

Looking up once they rounded out the song–which Rob and Rebel’d joined them on rhythm and lead guitar, respectively for–the young woman’s face turned a bit pink. He couldn’t help a chuckle as he sat his mug down on a nearby table, knowing Rikki’d kill him for messing up an amp or even a snare by setting it somewhere that’d allow it to get knocked over. Still, whether it was from her pregnancy or ’cuz she was actually embarrassed–even a lil bit of both–he couldn’t help but think she’d done pretty good.

_“Bene, buongiorno, tesoro,”_ Bobby chuckled, careful not to damage her bass as he wrapped his arms around her.

_“Buongirono, l’amore,”_ she responded, unable to help a snicker at Richie’s surprised look. _“Che cosa? Può una ragazza non salutare il suo uomo in Italiano e viceversa o qualcosa del genere?”_

“I guess I’m just surprised in your fluency,” the virtuoso laughed. “’Cuz I only caught a few words here and there that I could translate, if I wanted to.”

“Really, now?” This was asked by the drummer, whose brow was cocked curiously.

“Tour _Italia_ enough, andja eventually pick up a few things,” he chuckled. “Like, _buongiorno_ means _Good Morning,_ but _giorno_ alone means _Day.”_

“Huh, never took ya as a linguist, man,” Rikki mused.

“So, what on Earth were y’all playing?” the bassist asked. “Richie thought the rhythm we could feel through the floor was familiar, but we couldn’t hear it till we got down to the basement.”

Reagan’s face actually turned red, and he knew this one was gonna be good. “I doubt you’ve ever heard it–hell, _I_ hadn’t even heard it till shortly before I left home and moved to Tenn.”

“Oh?” He couldn’t help cocking a brow at her, himself now, his Curiosity piqued.

“Why don’t we just run through it again, Mistress?” Rob snickered. “You’re never gonna convince me you’ve a horrible voice, even for a former smoker and when you’re hoarse as hell.”

“Rob, I’ma hide your hard-ons, if ya keep on!” the young woman groaned.

“Rebel will find ’em and gimme one back,” he retorted with a laugh.

Even Richie couldn’t help a laugh as the doll basically mimed a _Suck it!_ gesture, which just earned him a pair of middle fingers from his Mistress. In fact, even the other dolls couldn’t bite back a snicker, the bassist just shaking his head as he told him that that was relatively tame for his girlfriend. After all, he’d heard her cussing her dolls out in solid Italian at a pace so fast, it almost quite literally made his head spin, and he hadn’t bothered asking for any translations.

Apparently deciding to just give in, Reagan nodded toward the younger-looking doll, who Returned the nod and counted them in. Immediately after he’d played his intro roll, the rest of them started picking out their respective riffs, which they couldn’t say sounded particularly bad. But glancing over at Richie, he and the drummer surprised to see his eyes as wide as they were, which made him look like they were about to pop outta their sockets or something.

_“I never really feel quite right, and I don’t know why_ – _all I know is somethin's wrong… Every Time I look at you, you seem so alive…”_ the young woman sang about twenty seconds into the song, having taken a step closer to the mic in front of her. _“Tell me, howddaya do it, walk me through it_ – _I’m followin’ every footstep!”_

“Holy shit,” the virtuoso breathed, sounding downright floored, but still Awed.

“What–ya recognize this one or something?” Rikki asked, having leaned over so he could hear him.

“I fuckin’ wrote it with Richie Zito, so I _hope_ I still recognize it,” he retorted, somewhat snapped outta his Awe by the question.

Even Bobby’s brows rose in surprise, but he didn’t remark on his comment as he grabbed his mug again.

_“Maybe on your own, ya take a conscious step_ – _do you wanna give it up? But all I want is for you to shine…shine down on me! Shine on this Life that’s burnin’ out!”_ Reagan continued, the younger-looking doll jumping in for a backing line that only his Inspiration knew he’d once sang, himself.

Glancing back down at her fret board in the few seconds of rest between the chorus and second verse–at least, for vocals, that is–she steeled her nerves as much as she could. She couldn’t help that she always got more than a lil anxious when she was singing around others, especially for the first Time. Knowing that Richie’d know this song damn near off the top of his head wasn’t helping her, ’cuz she felt she was kinda under pressure to do it Justice since she knew he’d written it.

_“I say a lotta things sometimes that don’t come out right, and I act like I don’t know why_ – _I guess a reaction’s all I was lookin’ for…yeah,”_ Reagan continued, a bit of a haunted look to her eyes when she looked up again. _“You looked through me, you really knew me like no one has ever looked before…”_

The other trio of humans didn’t miss how–haunted though that look was–she pinned it dead on her man as she was singing that verse.

_“Maybe on your own, ya take a cautious step_ – _do you wanna give it up? But all I want is for you to shine…shine down on me! Shine on this Life that’s burnin’ out!”_

_“I know, I know_ – _girl, you got somethin’,”_ Rich sang without missing a beat, leaning over to reach the mic right next to him.

_“Shine_ – _”_ The young woman purposely held out her note.

_“Shine it onto me,”_ he sang, a bit of a smirk quirking his lips.

_“Shine down on me,”_ Reagan followed up.

_“I wanna feel it…”_ The younger-looking doll bit back laughter, his mind taking a bit of a dirty turn for that lyric.

_“Shine on this Life that’s burnin’ out!”_

Only Bobby wasn’t surprised by how his girlfriend held out that last note before Rebel ripped into a solo that made him realize his former band mate’d been the one to record it. It was too similar to what he’d heard outta him when he was a member of Poison and they were in the studio together to work on _Native Tongue_ for him not to recognize his style. Now that begged to question, though–was this one of his solo works that’d come after his Time with the _Glam, Slam, Kings of Noise,_ or was it something else? He might recognize his playing style, but he definitely couldn’t say he recognized the song as a whole, and that was the part that was gonna drive him nuts till he found out.

_“Maybe on your own, ya take a cautious step_ – _do you wanna give it up? But all I want is for you to shine…shine down on me!”_ This Time, all three dolls chimed in for backing lines, leaving the young woman to sing another part that’d be hard any other way.

_“Just show me somethin’,”_ she sang on her own.

_“Shine on this Life that’s burnin’ out!”_ they sang in unison.

_“You gimme somethin’ that I’ll never know,”_ Reagan sang on her own, her gaze again pinned on her boyfriend as she did.

_“Shine!”_ The dolls were the onesta keep going with the parts that weren’t full phrases or other sentences here.

_“It’s gonna kill me, if you give somethin’ away…”_

_“Shine, yeah!”_

_“I wanna know what’s goin’ in on your mind…”_

_“Shine on this Life that’s burnin’ out!”_ It was Rich’s last note that was most prominent for this particular line, and neither the bassist, nor drummer could say it sounded particularly bad.

_“Don’t you know, I want you to_ – _”_ said doll sang on his before the others joined him again.

_“_ – _shine…shine down on me! Shine on this Life that’s burnin’ out!”_

Somehow, the young woman wasn’t surprised that Richie was the first to start clapping softly as they let their last few notes die away. Given that he’d written this particular tune, she figured either he’d be the first to give that kinda reaction, or the first to give some serious critical feedback. That still didn’t stop her from blushing once again as she toed off her amp and pulled her strap over her head, then turned to settle her bass on its stand.

Begging a few moments for a potty break–when she really _did_ need–she stepped outta the studio, which seemed to surprise the virtuoso. Rich chuckled as he laid the sticks he’d been using on the snare closest to his right hand, then rose from behind the kit with a slight smile on his face. As his compatriots were settling the guitars they were using on their own stands, he turned his attention to the man he was based on.

“Mistress is incredibly shy about her abilities,” he explained, unable to help his slight amusement.

“I dunno why the fuck she _would_ be,” Richie laughed. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d have sworn I was hearing yet another of my former band mates just then.”

“Wait, what?” It was the drummer who shot him a funny look.

“Never really listened to much from Mr. Big, have ya?” he countered, a smirk curving his lips.

“Can’t say we have, no,” Bobby answered, shaking his head.

“Yeah, ya have.”

Turning slightly, he saw his girlfriend Returning from her potty break.

“Remember that song I toldja I made an ex _really_ listen to the chorus of after he dumped me in 2010, _Just Take My Heart?”_ Reagan asked as she moved to settle in his lap.

“One of my favorite songs, heart-wrenching through it is,” the bassist admitted.

“That’s a pre-Richie Mr. Big song, ya dork,” she chuckled. “It’s from their 1991 album, _Lean Into It,_ which’d original guitarist Paul Gilbert playing on it.”

His eyes widened since he’d never known that before now.

“And don’t try to tell me ya don’t like any other Mr. Big songs, ’cuz I know damn well that’s a lie,” the young woman told him. “The _Electric Drill Song, Alive and Kickin’, Green-Tinted Sixties’ Mind, Never Say Never, Road to Ruin,_ and _To be with You_ are all from that same album.”

“Well, shit,” Bobby chuckled. “How’dja stumble across one with Richie playing on it, though?”

His girlfriend couldn’t help a laugh as she leaned back against his chest, her hands resting on her belly as she relaxed against him. She readily admitted that she’d gotten to researching the virtuoso in question more when she decided to add Rich to her order, ’cuz she wanted his personality as closeta spot-on as she could get for not actually knowing his Inspiration at the Time. It was as she was doing that research that she’d stumbled across a video of said Inspiration performing that song live, and she’d honestly thought it was one of his solo works at first.

But something caught her attention from the corner of her eye, which’d made her glance down at the _Recommended Videos_ sidebar. That was when she spotted the official video for this song, which was said to’ve been posted by the Mr. Big VEVO account. Given that she’d never heard it and was an inquisitive lil bitch, she’d wanted her confusion cleared up, so she’d decided to open it up in another tab.

While the young woman wouldn’t say that Richie’d a bad voice by any means–she’d be lying out her ass, if she did–the original definitely sounded quite a bit different. Eric Martin didn’t have nearly the bluesy Sound to his voice that his former band mate possessed–it was almost like a higher-pitched version of Bret’s cleaner vocals, if she were honest. However, unlike with just about any other band she listened to, it was their front man’s vocals she’d zeroed in on when she’d started learning the lyricsta this particular song.

“I mean, with the majority of the Poison songs you’re featured on, it’s _your_ backing line that I zero in on for some reason,” Reagan admitted as she looked at the man in question.

“Really, now?” he asked, looking surprised.

“Unless I force myself to do otherwise, _Fire and Ice_ comes out in your key, even though I’m singing along with Bret’s lead line whenever I’m listening to it,” the young woman laughed, nodding. “Same happens with _Stand_ and _Ride Child Ride_ for the most part, too.”

“It can actually be kinda freaky sometimes,” Bobby chuckled. “Especially considering she can outdo me on a couple of my parts from _Your Mama Don’t Dance_ when she puts her mind to it.”

“You’re shitting me,” the virtuoso laughed.

Taking a deep breath, she proved her boyfriend right with ease, practically growling his infamous one-liner almost better than he did, himself.

“Okay, yeah–that _is_ kinda freaky,” Richie agreed with another laugh. “’Cuz I’m pretty sure Bobby’s never been gay, so I doubt he’d fall for anyone that’d a dick of their own, or _used_ to have one.”

“I blame a shit-load of practice and ten Years of smoking for my crazy range,” Reagan chuckled. “And it’s only been within the last Year or two–really, ever since I quit smoking–that I started being able to reach those crazy-high notes again.”

He couldn’t help cocking a brow at her any more than Rikki could.

“I’d like to see _you_ hit the same notes as Amy Lee from Evanescence and maintain ’em,” the young woman laughed.

“Fuck, that’ll never happen without a kick to the jewels!” Richie crowed. “’Cuz yeah, I _can_ reach some ridiculous notes sometimes, but not like _that.”_

“My point exactly,” she told him. “Another one that I can go a lil crazy on is Nightwish–well, specific songs, that is. Some’re easier for me to do than others, and again, I blame all those Years of smoking.”

“Well, ya said thatcha got to researching me to try figuring out my personality more,” the virtuoso ventured. “But even I can tell ya didn’t quite get it right.”

Laughing again, Reagan admitted that he was a bit of a hard one to get a handle on sometimes, much like her boyfriend could be. In some places, he seemed to be quiet, shy, and reserved, while in others, he seemed to be almost more of a goofball than Bobby could be sometimes. Sometimes, he’d seem like he didn’t have the slightest bit of a temper, but others, he’d seem almost more temperamental than she was at her worst.

To that End since she hadn’t wanted bipolar sex dolls running around her house, the young woman’d decided to go with some of the more sedate personality traits both men seemed to possess. Even if that meant they weren’t quite true-to-form, it’d still work out since it’d serve as a Balance for her own brand of crazy. Calm and sedate dolls could Balance out the wild and temperamental side of her that could sometimes come out, particularly when she was PMS’ing–or in this case, pregnant. Bobby’s Love of cooking in the older-looking doll Balanced out the fact that she hated cooking unless it was quick and simple, usually junk food.

Her boyfriend constantly being on the go–he even wiggled and squirmed a lot in his sleep, he was so full of Energy–was a perfect Balanceta her own laziness. Since she hadn’t been too sure about him, she’d designed Rich to be somewhere in between them to add to the Balance she was going for. While he wasn’t nearly as lazy as she was herself, he was definitely lazier than his compatriot, but still willing to get up and run around like a Chicken with its head cut off sometimes.

“Eh, I can be pretty full of Energy, myself sometimes,” Richie admitted. “If my wife wasn’t in a band of her own and constantly on the go, I’ve a feeling she’d have a hard Time keeping up with me.”

“Well, another reason the dolls’ personalities might be slightly off’s ’cuz I used two different Zodiac signs for each one,” she told him.

“Wait, whaddaya mean?” The virtuoso looked confused as he scratched his head. “I’m an Aquarius, girl.”

“By the twelve-sign Zodiac most’re familiar with, yeah,” Reagan agreed. “But if ya use the _thirteen_ -sign Zodiac I use–which goes by the dates that a Constellation’s actually a backdrop to the Sun–you’d be a Capricorn.”

He couldn’t help how his brows furrowed as he gestured for her to elaborate.

“If your birthday’s actually in early-February like I’ve read online, the twelve-sign Zodiac says you’d be an Aquarius since that sign runs from January twentieth to February eighteenth,” the young woman explained. “But the Constellation of Capricornus is what’s _actually_ a backdrop to the Sun from January nineteenth to February fifteenth.”

“Fuck, no Wonder I’ve always felt kinda mixed-up and didn’t really believe any horoscopes anyone got me to read,” Richie laughed.

“Oh, trust me–I felt the same way for Years till I stumbled across that lil tidbit,” she chuckled. “’Cuz I’m said to be a Libra since my birthday’s in mid-October, but going by that thirteen-sign Zodiac, I’m really a Virgo.”

“But like myself and even Rikki, she shows a lotta traits from both signs,” Bobby spoke up. “Like, she usually internalizes a lotta Communication and other social interactions and is a total introvert like any other Virgo, but she’s as lazy as a typical Libra and can have the take-charge attitude they and other Cardinal signs possess when she feels like it.”

“I’m usually described as dualistic and two-faced, though, which’s a key trait of all the mutable signs–of which, Virgo happensta be one,” the young woman said.

Richie looked thoughtful as he pondered that before finally saying that she’d apparently tried to build any parts of his personality she was unsure of based on both the Zodiac signs he was supposed to be. Nodding, she freely admitted that that’s exactly what she’d done, ’cuz it was easier–not to mention completely legal–as compared to trying to track him down. Gods only knew that if she’d tried tracking him down, he’d have prolly called the cops on her, or had her thrown in a looney bin, without bothering to hear her out. Then again, she couldn’t say she wouldn’t react any differently to what seemed like a completely insane fan finding her and quizzing her about her personality, so she expected no less outta him.

Even Rikki laughed as he admitted that she’d have prolly gotten about the same reaction to that as if she’d begged for his DNA just the Day previous so it could be fed into Rich’s system. He’d no doubt that he’d have prolly said something to the effect of _What the fuck kinda meds’re you on_ – _or_ need _to be on?,_ if she’d tracked him down to quiz him about his personality. Course, her having an in with his former band mates obviously Changed that, ’cuz he still thought she was weird, but not as much as if she’d approached him on her own.

Laughing, Reagan retorted that she was no more weird than he was himself, ’cuz she’d watched a few of his vlogs from back around 2012. One she’d damn near died laughing at–and still wouldn’t show her boyfriend to this Day–involved the lyricsta a song called _Player,_ unless she was mistaken. That made the virtuoso’s face heat up, ’cuz he knew exactly which vlog she was talking about, not to mention the song that was in question here. He couldn’t possibly name one of the more embarrassing moments in his Life aside from when he’d quite literally gotten thrown off the _Native Tongue_ tour.

After they’d settled down, the young woman told him that one of the other things she’d come to realize was that–despite his fame–he was like any other person on the Planet in a lotta ways. Her key example here was a vlog he’d deleted on the grounds that it involved his mother, ’cuz said mother’d practically lost her mind over it. Richie couldn’t help another laugh as he admitted that he’d purposely pushed his mother’s buttons that Day before leaving for a solo tour. He’d actually been listening to every word that came outta her mouth, but let her think he wasn’t just so he could get her riled up. When his father’d called him and told him just how bad she was losing her mind over it, he’d taken the vlog down, ’cuz he’d actually been scared of what’d happen, if he _didn’t_ take it down.

Listening to this particular conversation, even Bobby couldn’t help feeling like he was getting to know a side of Richie that hadn’t existed back in the Day. Or maybe it _had,_ and they’d all just been drinking and drugging too much to realize it’d existed back then, which was entirely possible. But either way, he was still on board with having Rich updated with the man’s parenting style for when their baby was born that Summer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The lyrics used in this chapter are from the song _Shine_ by Mr. Big, which's from their 2001 album, _Actual Size._ Before I stumbled across it yesterday, I'd honestly never listened to anything beyond that band's 1991 album, _Lean Into It,_ but I gotta say, the song in question here's been stuck in my head ever since I heard it. I recommend it to just about anyone looking for something quote-unquote _new_ to listen to except my mother–and that's just 'cuz she's so much of an Earth Witch that she _still_ hates Richie's guts for what got him fired from Poison almost thirty Years ago! LOL!  
> ~Firefly


	19. Eighteen

_July, 2020_

By the Time Bobby’d to head West for tour rehearsals, never mind actually left to kick off his next tour, they’d finally gotten the doll based on his older Self finished up. Just like they Intended, he looked and acted exactly like the Silver Fox did now, right down to the scar on his throat, his Silver hair being slightly below his shoulders, and having a bit of a temper once he was tired. They couldn’t have asked for a better potential replacement, if he got a call saying he needed to hightail it to Tenn before he missed the Birth of his third child, who was now due any Day.

Another thing that’d been accomplished more or less by accident was that the couple–and even the bassist’s kids–had managed to befriend Richie, his wife, and his daughter. In fact, they’d developed a strong enough friendship that she hadn’t hesitated to invite them out East for _Beltane_ and _Litha,_ should they wanna join in. She made it clear that they didn’t have to come, if they didn’t wanna since she knew at least the virtuoso was Christian, but they were still invited to all the same.

It was for that reason that said virtuoso and his wife were asleep in Rob’s room, August asleep in the guest room that Bret’d once used, nearly two weeks after the Summer Solstice. They’d decided to make a vacation outta joining her and her own dolls for the second Sabbat she’d invited them to, not to mention Independence Day, which was part of why they’d stayed. Not only that, but Richie couldn’t help but be a bit worried about her, considering how closeta her due date she was now. Said due date was actually the very next Day, if calculations’d been made correctly when she first found out she was pregnant. Course, babies were known for coming anywhere between two weeks before _and_ two weeks after their due dates, so nothing was precise.

Either way, this booger was said to be roughly the size of a Watermelon now, and Reagan looked like she could pop without a moment’s notice. She was so uncomfortable due to her baby’s size that it was hard for her to sleep, even when she was drop-dead exhausted. The fact that this lil booger seemed to be every bit as active as its daddy definitely didn’t help with how easy it was for her to get any rest. As least the End was in sight, though, which certainly made her heave a sigh of relief almost as much as when she finally managed to settle between her dolls for the Night.

However, that didn’t last more than four or five hours at best before the young woman woke with a pained groan, her hands already gripping her belly. Rob and Rich couldn’t respond right off the bat since they’d put themselves into sleep mode when she went to bed and needed a couple minutesta warm up, but they were woken by both that soft Sound and the bed suddenly getting wet. Once they were able to respond in any way, they both sat up and reached for the lamps on either nightstand, which flared on at the same Time. It was then that they turned their attention to their Mistress, neither liking the look on her face, which said she was trying not to scream. They’d never seen her react like that unless she was in some serious pain, but they knew better than to ask her anything till she relaxed again.

“Mistress, what’s wrong?” Rich asked, gently brushing her hair back.

“Just…go get…Richie,” she panted once she finally started to relax.

“Just go,” the older-looking doll said when he looked uncertain. “I’m not leaving her here by herself, like this.”

Nodding, he tossed the covers off himself and rose, not even bothering to stop and change his soaked boxers before heading off.

“Just breathe, Mistress,” Rob told her, gently rubbing her back.

In his compatriot’s room, the younger-looking doll used the Night vision he’d been built with to figure out which body belonged to that of the man he’d been told to wake up. “Richie.”

_“Mmm_ – _hmm?”_ the virtuoso hummed once he’d gently shaken him. “Rich–what’s up?”

“Mistress told me to come wake ya up,” Rich said, not surprised the man’s wife woke with a soft hum.

“Shit, I’ll bet I know why,” he muttered, suddenly more alert as he tossed the covers off himself. Turning on the lamp next to his side of the bed, his suspicion was pretty much confirmed. “Yep, I’ll let Julia unman me, if I’m wrong about her going into labor.”

His eyes widened as his Inspiration rose, Julia sitting up to rub her eyes. “You’re sure?”

“Her due date’s tomorrow,” Richie answered as he stepped into the adjoining bathroom. “I’m willing to bet you and Rob woke up to a groan and the bed being soaked, didn’tcha?”

“Yeah, actually,” the younger-looking doll told him.

“Classic sign of a woman going into labor,” he chuckled, flushing and washing his hands before Returning to the bedroom. “The groan means she’d what’s called a contraction, and the bed winding up soaked was from her water breaking.”

“Shit, that means we need to call Bobby,” Rich said, turning to head back to the master suite.

The Kotzens were hot on his heels, although the virtuoso’s wife was still more asleep than she wasn’t as she followed them.

Back in the master suite, Rob was still trying to Comfort his Mistress as another wave of pain gripped her when the trio walked in. He was relieved to look up to find Richie on his compatriot’s heels, even if he was a bit perturbed at seeing the man’s wife with them. Course, this was no Time to be arguing over something ridiculous, as much pain as his Mistress seemed to be in right now.

“How far apart’re they?” he asked as he gently settled where the doll based on him’d been laying previously.

“Dunno,” Reagan groaned, keeping a white-knuckled grip on her belly. “Haven’t…looked at…a clock yet.”

“Just breathe, sugar,” the virtuoso said, his tone Soothing and kinda hypnotic. “Rob, get on the phone and get in touch with Bobby.”

“What?” His eyes widened in surprise.

“Trust me, he’s gonna damn near teleport down here when ya tell him this kid’s not waiting anymore,” Richie chuckled.

Startled by his words, the older-looking doll reached over to grab his phone off his nightstand, knowing the man who might as well’ve been his Master wouldn’t forgive any of them, if he missed his child’s Birth. He’d made it plainly obvious from the Time they’d found out about the young woman’s pregnancy that he wasn’t missing such a thing, if it could be avoided. Why else would they’ve had that second doll of him made, if he was gonna allow himself to miss something so special and monumental? He just hoped Bobby wasn’t already asleep, and that he wouldn’t be _too_ pissed, if he _did_ happen to wake him up since it was the Witching Hour.

In his hotel room up in St. Louis, Missouri–which they’d finally gotten to earlier that Eve after waiting to take off from Cleveland, Ohio and taking their Time getting there–the bassist was just finishing up his bedtime routine. When he was on tour, it wasn’t uncommon for him–not to mention the rest of the guys and crew–to be up till three or four in the Morn before they were wound down enough to go to bed. Sometimes, they’d be up later than that, while other Nights, they’d head to bed earlier, as long as they didn’t have a reason to stay up. It all just depended on any given Night in question, but tonight was no exception, save for one thing he’d found kinda odd.

He hadn’t been able to shake an odd feeling all Night, kinda like the one he’d gotten decades ago when Bret’d gotten into his 1994 car accident. Something was gonna happen, that much was for sure, but he didn’t know _what_ that something was–and that was the part that worried him. Feeling a sudden cramp around two-thirty took him by surprise, but he didn’t really think anything of it since it’d been a while since the last Time he’d relieved himself.

But feeling another cramp a few minutes into the Witching Hour as he made his way back to his hotel room’s bed was more than a bit startling. He’d just finished up in the bathroom, and it wasn’t like he was constipated or had a case of the _wicked shits,_ so he knew he didn’t still have to go. Wondering what on Earth could possibly be wrong with him, Bobby settled on the edge of the bed, somehow doubting he was gonna be getting any sleep that Night–or more aptly, Morn. Maybe the doll that looked like his older Self was gonna wind up getting put to use so he could recover from whatever was wrong with him at their show the next Night.

Startled by his phone suddenly starting to ring, the bassist couldn’t help the Curse that ripped outta his throat as he grappled for the device. He couldn’t imagine who on Earth’d be calling him at this Time of Night since most of the folks he knew woulda already been in bed. It was seeing Rob’s contact on the screen that made his eyes widen, not to mention prompted him into actually answering the call.

“What’s up, man?” Bobby asked, his phone now held up to his head so he could hear as he rubbed his sore belly with his free hand.

_“Hope you’ve the other doll charged,”_ he chuckled. _“You’re being summoned back to Tenn by a temperamental Banshee.”_

“Wait, what–it’s go-Time?” The bassist’s jaw dropped as it suddenly clicked for him.

_“Yeah, man,”_ another familiar voice said. _“Julia and I are gonna get her to the hospital for ya since Rob and Rich don’t have their licenses, and that’d raise too many questions, even if they did.”_

“Thanks, Richie,” he sighed. “Course, this definitely explains a few things.”

_“Whaddaya mean?”_ the virtuoso asked curiously.

“Been cramping every few minutes for the last half-hour or so,” Bobby laughed. “Figured it was just ’cuz I needed to make a run for the bathroom, so I didn’t think much of it.”

_“Well, I think just about any guy’d think that,”_ he chuckled.

“But now that I know Reagan’s in labor…” The bassist trailed off with a groan of his own as another cramp hit, and he heard his girlfriend groan from the other End of the line. “Yep, definitely confirmed in my book.”

_“Holy shit.”_ This was said by another feminine voice that was heavily-accented, which he assumed belonged to Richie’s wife, Julia. _“You’re feeling her labor as Sympathy pains.”_

“No doubt about it,” he said, taking as deep of breaths as he could manage. “Happened with my son and daughter, too, now that I think about it.”

_“Ya gonna be able to get to the airport, or try to drive back?”_ Richie asked, clearly concerned.

“Trust me, I ain’t dumb enough to try driving like this,” Bobby assured them. “Not when it feels like my guts’re trying to wring themselvesta Death on top of being constipated.”

He could hear even the dolls with Reagan wince at that particular description.

“I’ll be able to make it over to STL since it’s a couple miles from the hotel we wound up in, then from BNA to Saint Thomas Midtown since that’s maybe another five miles, but that’s about it when I’m in this kinda pain,” the bassist said.

_“How long do ya think that’ll take?”_ his former band mate asked.

“Barring any traffic jams, maybe an hour and a-half when ya add in the flight,” he answered. “Flight from St. Louis to Nashville’s supposed to be an hour and ten, so once ya add in getting through security, I’d say a tops of two, two and a-half hours.”

_“I’m not even sure I wanna ask about driving with the way she’s murdering my hand right now,”_ Richie laughed.

“We’re looking at more like four and a-half or five hours, if I were dumb enough to do that,” the bassist told him. “But again, not gonna happen since I’d rather live to see my kid born, not get hit with a cramp from her having another contraction and wrap a rental around a guard rail.”

_“Ya better fuckin’ not, love, or I’ll Resurrectcha and kill ya another twelve Times!”_ Reagan snapped, her own pain clearly heard in her voice.

Bobby assured her that he was doing no such thing as he pushed himself up to boot up the other doll he’d brought with him, not to mention start packing up his personal belongings. That was exactly why he Intended to catch a last-minute flight down to Nashville, even if that got him stuck in the ass-End of coach. He knew there was a higher chance of him getting into a car wreck–especially if a contraction hit her and translated to a cramp for him outta nowhere and caused him to lose Control. As many Times as he’d flown all over the World for tours and landed safely, he didn’t anticipate any problems tonight.

It wasn’t long before they Ended their call so Richie and Julia could get her to the hospital he’d specified, the doll he’d turned on for the first Time since they’d tested him at home now booted up. Naturally, he was a bit confused at first as he saw him packing up his belongings, kinda like a coma patient woulda been immediately after waking.

As he was moving around the room, the bassist explained the call he’d just gotten from his friend and former band mate. The doll nodded and said to leave letting the others know the next afternoon up to him, ’cuz he wasn’t gonna bother them, if they were supposed to be heading off to bed. Considering that they needed their rest for the show that’d still get to go on, he saw no reason to freak them out in the middle of the Night. He couldn’t say he disagreed with that sentiment, quick to thank him before heading out with his carry-on and suitcase so he could head to the airport. The sooner he got there and nabbed even a last-minute plane ticket, the sooner he’d be on his way to his laboring girlfriend’s side.

Once he was on the plane in question–luckily, up in first-class instead of back in coach–Bobby settled into his seat as much as he could. He’d been lucky enough to nab one where he wouldn’t have anyone next to him, which meant he wouldn’t have some nosy passenger messing with him. Still, he warned the flight attendant assigned to this area that he was gonna be wincing and biting back groans, but not to have EMS waiting when they landed unless he specifically requested it.

Now, it was just a waiting game for the flight to land at BNA, and he just hoped that the Change in pressure during said flight wouldn’t make his pain that much more intense.


	20. Nineteen

Barely after reaching cruising altitude a good half-hour, forty-five minutes later, Bobby couldn’t help wincing as yet another cramp hit. He didn’t even try to stop his toes from curling in his boots, ’cuz he knew that if he did otherwise, he was gonna let out a scream. Even though he’d hoped such a thing wouldn’t happen, it seemed that the pressure Change between on the ground and up in the Air only intensified his pain every Time one of those cramps hit. The only thing that really made him fight his urge to scream was knowing that it was a short flight, and that till his girlfriend’s pain intensified even more, it should slack off again for a while once he landed.

“Sir, are ya all right?”

Managing to glance up, he was both surprised and not to see the flight’s Captain squatting down in the aisle next to the seat adjacent to his and held up a finger.

“Sir, I gotta–”

“Don’t…make me…talk…unless ya…want me…to scream,” the bassist ground out, his hands tightening on the arm rests in a white-knuckled grip.

He seemed a bit startled by that, but almost relieved when his passenger started to relax after about thirty seconds.

“Sorry about that,” Bobby said sheepishly as he settled for what was prolly gonna be about ten minutes. “No, I don’t need medical attention, so don’t bother radio’ing ahead.”

“Are ya sure about that?” the Captain asked uncertainly.

“You’re gonna call me crazy, but my girlfriend’s in labor, and I’m feeling it,” he chuckled, nodding.

“Can’t say I’ve ever heard of such a thing happening,” he mused, but still let out a chuckle of his own.

“It happened the first two Times with my ex-wife,” the bassist admitted. “Once I got the phone call tonight, I put the pieces together and figured out why I kept having cramps.”

“Well, I can safely say it doesn’t look pleasant.”

“It’s not, and being in the Air’s only making it worse for right now,” Bobby told him. “But if I’m right, it’ll slack off once we’re on the ground again–till _her_ pain intensifies, that is.”

“As long as you’re sure ya don’t need any medical attention,” the Captain said, still sounding reluctant.

“Trust me, the only way I won’t letcha know’s if I pass out and physically can’t,” he assured him.

Nodding, he finally rose so he could head back to the cockpit, which left him to his own devices.

The bassist heaved a sigh of relief once he was left alone, his hand still resting on his belly as he tried to make himself as comfortable as possible. He was just glad that he could usually bite back the worst of the racket he’d normally make when he was in pain, as long as it wasn’t too sudden or sharp. Luckily for him–not to mention the passengers surrounding him–his pain remained a dull ache between each contraction his girlfriend had, then slowly intensified and ebbed through each of those contractions.

A lil over an hour after takeoff, Bobby couldn’t help a groan as the landing gear hit the runway right in the middle of one of those wicked cramps. He knew it couldn’t be helped unless the pilots’d wanted to abort the landing and try again, which wasn’t fair to everyone else on the plane. If there’d been more than one passenger in his shoes, it mighta made sense, but he wouldn’t have asked them to do such a thing just for him.

Once everyone else’d disembarked and he felt like he could move, he pushed himself up outta his seat so he could grab his carry-on from the overhead compartment. A quick pit stop at baggage claim allowed him to grab his suitcase, then he was off to the valet desk, considering where he was. He’d left his car here over a month ago when he’d flown out to Los Angeles so he could start tour rehearsals, so he needed his keys. With any Luck, the battery wouldn’t be dead since it’d sat in disuse for a while, which’d aid him in getting to the hospital that much quicker. Even still, the valet set someone on starting the process for a rental, just in case he turned out to have a dead battery or something so it wouldn’t take as long when he came back in.

Bobby heaved another sigh of relief when the ’74 Firebird–well, fired right up, the almost-deafening roar settling into its typical orgasmic purr. The valet nodded and headed back into the airport once assured that he was good to go, which left him to wait out another one of those cramps before he took off. Such a short wait wasn’t necessarily a bad thing, though–it gave his car a chanceta warm up and let the fluids circulate through the motor a bit before he stomped the clutch and put it in gear. Once that cramp slacked off, though, all bets were off on him making record Time in getting to the hospital roughly five miles away.

“I’m looking for Reagan Logan,” he told the nurse at the Labor-and-Delivery nurses’ station once he got up to the floor he’d toured with his girlfriend already.

“And you are?” the nurse–apparently Marie Ricketts–asked, cocking a brow.

“Her boyfriend and the father of her child, Robert Kuykendall,” Bobby answered.

She almost looked like she was gonna call bullshit, but was quickly cut off by a couple different things.

“Whoa, man.”

A pair of arms grabbed him as the next cramp that hit made him double over, and he was quick to recognize the voice. “Thanks…Richie…”

“Can’t have Daddy cracking his coconut on anything,” Richie chuckled, managing to right him. “Gladja got here in one piece, though–I think it’ll take me a month to be able to play again, with the way Reagan’s been trying to murder my hand the last couple hours.”

“So, he’s _really_ Miss Logan’s boyfriend?” Marie asked.

“Unlikely couple, I know, but hey–to each their own,” the virtuoso answered.

“Then he’s gonna need to sign in as a visitor–well, once he can, that is,” she told them.

“Gimme whatever I need to fill out, then,” Bobby said, letting out another sigh as he managed to straighten more. “’Cuz judging by that, we’ve about eight or nine minutes till Richie’s to catch me again, if I’m not sitting down.”

“Well, it’s not like I’ma letcha bust your head open,” he assured him with a laugh.

It didn’t take long for the bassist to get signed in as a visitor, Richie refusing to let him carry his bags as he led him to his girlfriend’s room. With a cursory knock, he opened the door to lead him in, quickly wrapping an arm around his waist when he heard him wince behind him. Considering it’d taken a few minutes, he’d no doubt that he was feeling the Beginnings of another contraction, which he could already hear the young woman starting to all but hypno-sing her way through.

Laying on her right side so she faced the door, Reagan gripped the rails of the bed she’d been put in, her eyes scrunched shut as the contraction started to gain intensity. She forced herself to focus on Julia’s hands digging in as she massaged her back, particularly down toward her lower lumbar. It seemed that she was having some bad back labor, but she’d more or less expected that from the moment she’d found out about her pregnancy. Outta all the areas that typically hurt during a woman’s period, she got the majority of her cramps in her back, and it was said that a woman got the worst of her labor pains in the same areas that hurt the worst during her periods.

Feeling a hand pry one of hers off the bed rail to clasp around it made her at least crack her eyes open, and she couldn’t help a relieved smile as she saw her boyfriend. His own brows were furrowed as he obviously fought through the Sympathy pain he was feeling, but he proved to be just as much a trooper as she was. Even though he obviously wanted to scream and cry, he was able to keep himself quiet as he Comforted her through this latest contraction in his own way.

“You’re a dead man, if ya don’t get snipped after this,” the young woman managed to chuckle once the contraction ebbed and their grips on each others’ hands loosened.

“No need to make that kinda threat, darlin’,” Bobby laughed, finally settling in a chair that his former band mate shoved behind him. “Much as I love even _this_ booger, I can’t take this shit a fourth Time.”

“You’re just as much a trooper as her, if ya ask me,” Richie told him. “’Cuz I’m sure that flight, short as it was, couldn’t have been pleasant like this.”

“Fuck, no,” he said, his free hand pressed to his belly. “Hell, getting up in the Air just made it worse.”

“Really?” This was asked by Julia, who hadn’t slacked off in the back rub she’d been giving.

“I think it was the pressure Change that did it,” the bassist answered, nodding. “’Cuz it was bad enough for the Captain to keep coming out to check on me till he absolutely _had_ to stay in the cockpit, but it’s slacked off a bit ever since we got back on the ground.”

“Sounds plausible,” Reagan said, readjusting her hand to lace their fingers together. “Pressure Changes like that can trigger labor, so I don’t see why it couldn’t intensify pain in a lotta cases.”

“Wait, it can really do that?” the virtuoso asked, looking a bit surprised.

“Whyddaya think airlines’ve a cut-off date for pregnant women to fly?” she countered with a laugh. “And still won’t let a woman board, if she’s pregnant and has already shown some kinda problem that could cause concern up in the Air, even an emergency landing?”

“I’ve always wondered about that,” Richie mused. “It makes sense, though, when ya think about it like that.”

“Well, all that being said, I can’t wait till this is all over with any more than she can,” Bobby chuckled. “I might not have to put nearly as much work into a pregnancy and delivery, but damn it, this still hurts.”

Not even the Brazilian woman–who was every bit a musician as the rest of them–could help a laugh when he admitted that. It was pretty clear that he was a fairly tough guy–then again, considering what all he’d been through, folks’d be crazy to say he wasn’t. But it was pretty clear to them that even he’d his limits on how much he could take before he started crying _Uncle!,_ so to speak.

After the next contraction that the couple was forced to more or less Comfort each other through, Reagan’s OB/GYN appeared. She hadn’t checked her since right after she was admitted, and she figured it was about Time to make her next check. If it didn’t do anything but tell them how much she’d dilated, that’d be a good thing–once she reached four centimeters, she could finally get an epidural, if she wanted one. Maybe getting such a form of pain relief’d help not only her, but her poor boyfriend–if _she_ couldn’t feel it, maybe that’d lessen how much _he_ felt it, too.

Another six hours after Bobby’d arrived at the hospital–maybe five and a-half after his poor girlfriend had gotten an epidural–he couldn’t help the ecstatic smile on his face. Said girlfriend was knocked out cold in her hospital bed after a good eight hours of labor at the least, and she deserved every second of rest she managed to get. Delivering their new daughter hadn’t been easy for her, and having another child certainly wasn’t something he’d ask of her in even five Lifetimes.

Richie and Julia’d headed back to the houseta let his older kids and the dolls know all’d gone well, and that there’d been a healthy delivery. He knew they’d all be delighted and relieved to hear that mother and child had both gotten a clean Bill of Health less than an hour after the Birth. Whether he was biased or not, _he_ was certainly delighted and relieved to hear that news, so he didn’t see why anyone closeta them wouldn’t be.

Looking down at said child–his newborn daughter, Sparrow Roberta-Selene Kuykendall–the bassist couldn’t help the Renewed sense of Energy flowing through his very being. A lotta folks that were pushing their fifty-eighth birthday’d most likely be starting to feel old and tired–which he _had_ for the last couple Years. But it was almost like with the Birth of his new baby girl came an infusion of the Endless Energy he’d possessed in his twenties. It was like a sense that his work here on this Plane was nowhere near done, that if he were to give in to that old, tired feeling now, he’d be missing out on the best things yet. And anybody who knew him even half as well as most fans did knew damn good and well he wasn’t gonna let happen anytime soon.

Bobby’s smile only widened as Sparrow squirmed in his arms, a soft lil noise drifting up from her parted lips as she snuggled closer to him. It was almost impossible to tell if she was gonna look more like him or her mother at the moment, but he didn’t care. Regardless of who she favored as she got older, it was obvious that she was gonna be beautiful, and he cared more about her Health. As long as she remained every bit as healthy as she was right now, not to mention she stayed safe and happy, _he’d_ be happy. To that End, all he did was crane his neck to kiss her head before settling down for a nap of his own with her cradled to his chest.


	21. Twenty

Three Days after the Birth of his new, younger daughter, Bobby was dead to the World on his side of his and Reagan’s bed, said girlfriend just as knocked-out as he was. Mother and daughter’d been released from the hospital the Day previous, much to the delight of his older kids and all three dolls. Said dolls were just as excited to meet the new baby as their older siblings were, not to mention wanted to assure themselves that their Mistress was still healthy. It was for that reason that neither of them’d tried to argue Rob and Rich helping her into the house while he brought in said baby, Rebel quick to grab their bags outta the back of her truck.

He’d managed to Return the call given to him by his manager when he and the rest of his band had realized it wasn’t _him_ playing at the Busch Stadium, but rather his look-alike. They’d all known there was a high probability that he’d get a call summoning him home, considering when Sparrow was due, so they weren’t surprised it took him a while to get back to them. What they _were_ surprised by was that he said he needed a few Daysta recover in his own right, and not just from playing the role of supportive daddy during labor. None of them’d ever known that he’d felt either of his ex-wife’s labors, and that he’d felt this one just as strongly–actually, more so, if he were completely honest.

But ever since getting home from the hospital, the bassist’d damn near bitten even his son whenever somebody tried to take the baby from him. If he was asleep with her snoozing on his chest, he was even more prone to trying to bite even his girlfriend from his protective bent coming out. Course, that just showed that he was hyper-aware that he was supposed to have _something_ on his chest that he _needed_ to protect.

Even the Kotzens remained out East for a few Days after the Birth so they’d get a chanceta _really_ meet the newborn. August hadn’t gotten to meet her before she and the young woman were discharged, much like the baby’s actual siblings, and she’d said that she wanted to. Knowing that new babies were a lotta work and could drain one’s Energy pretty quick, Richie’d eventually convinced his wife and daughter they needed to head back home, if only so the new parents could rest. They’d all three of their dolls that could help them, if they needed the extra hands at any given Time–well, if her daddy’d give her up without maiming anyone, that is.

“I’m _soooo_ not looking forward to ya leaving again,” Reagan sighed after the lunch that’d followed their nap.

“Believe it or not, even _I’m_ not looking forward to leaving again,” the bassist agreed. “Hell, I’m half-tempted to just call the guys and tell them to make sure my clone stays charged so I can ditch them.”

“Ya know ya love whatcha do, though,” she laughed, even as she hugged him possessively.

“Yeah, and I’ve never denied that,” Bobby chuckled. “But I love my family just as much, maybe more than I’ve ever loved the band.”

“I call bullshit, love,” the young woman told him.

“Well, there _is_ another reason,” he finally admitted a bit sheepishly, pink tinging his cheeks.

“Oh? Do tell, ’cuz I’ve the feeling this is gonna be good,” Reagan said, propping her elbows on his chest so she could hold her head up since they were stretched out on the couch together.

“Remember when I disappeared while ya were napping in the hospital a few hours after Sparrow was born?” the bassist asked.

“Yeah, which I thought was kinda weird,” she answered, nodding.

“Went and got snipped while ya were napping,” Bobby revealed, a bit of a sheepish grin crossing his face. “I knew I wasn’t gonna get to catch a nap in your recovery room ’cuz of the PA system constantly going off, so I came home to grab one, as well as clean clothes.”

_“Ahhhh,_ and you’re not exactly looking forward to going onstage with a sore sac and wearing a jock strap,” the young woman chuckled.

“Well, I’m not leaving till after I go back for that follow-up with the urologist that filleted my nuts,” he laughed. “Which’s in four Days, ’cuz he said I oughta be Healed by then.”

“Damn, that quick?” Reagan looked surprised.

“Said that’s relatively normal for a vasectomy, yeah,” the bassist answered with a nod. “But even if there’s still a lil Healing left to be done by the Time I leave to rejoin the tour–no, I’m not gonna wanna go onstage with sore nuts and wearing a jock strap.”

“Ya just remember anything else the doc toldja, like possible conception rates immediately afterward,” she told him.

Bobby couldn’t help another laugh as he assured her that–postpartum period or no–he’d every Intention of either dealing with nothing but hand-jobs, or just turning to Rebel for _that_ kinda relief for a while. At least his own sex doll wouldn’t conceive till his lines were completely flushed out, considering she wasn’t designed with that particular function in mind. Then again, he wasn’t too sure _how_ an animatronic doll could possibly be designed so it’d actually sustain a pregnancy from conception to Birth, and he was too tired to think about it.

The young woman let out a soft giggle as she settled with her head on his chest, her own body laying half-on, half-behind his ’cuz of how they were stretched out. She readily admitted that she was too tired to even try thinking about such a thing herself, and she loved pondering such Universal Mysteries. With that being said, she wouldn’t be surprised if both of them wound up falling back to sleep, whether they meant to or not.

Even the bassist knew that–tired though they were right now–they were only gonna be more tired as Time continued to wear on. With or without the help of their dolls, raising a baby was never easy for anyone, and he’d the experience of raising two kidsta attest to that. It was always hardest in the very Beginning since no infant could do anything for themselves, but it was always worth it in the End. Though it’d take some Time for both parentsta adjust, they’d manage to do it eventually, and they’d have each other to lean on. But their first test was gonna be when he left to rejoin his tour, and Reagan was left with only the dolls for extra hands.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short-as-fuck chapter, I know, but I started losing my drive for this story a few chapters ago–now, it's just completely gone. I blame getting an idea for something else within the last couple Days that's been knocking around my skull and won't lea'me alone, so since the End of this chapter feels about as Natural as it can under the circumstances for me–well, I'd rather just go ahead and End on a relatively high note than try to force myself to write.  
> ~Firefly


End file.
